


To Oblivion And Back

by Mecha_Maid



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Everybody Hates Harkon, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, pretty much a retelling of Dawnguard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 121,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mecha_Maid/pseuds/Mecha_Maid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a thousand years of slumber, Serana has finally been freed from Dimhollow Crypt, but it is not her mother who has come to her rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've met Isran, the leader of a group of vampire hunters known as the Dawnguard. The Vampires that attacked the Hall of Vigilants may have been after something in a place called Dimhollow Crypt. Isran has asked me to find out what the vampires are looking for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. In-game dialogue is used from the Dawnguard story line and other quests.**

The Vigilant tried not to cry out as a blade sliced into his skin once again, desperate not to reveal any weakness. Every inch of his body was paralyzed with white hot pain.

Never in his life had he been rendered to such a wretched state: vision blurring with tears, stripped to his smallclothes and covered with slashes and bruises.

His only accessory was a pendant, a symbol of Stendarr, a cold weight resting on his heaving chest. It was a cruel comfort, the only possession his tormentors had been unable to rip from his body.

The two figures—no—the two  _abominations_  leered over him, swords in hand, nostrils flaring as the metallic stench of his blood grew in intensity with each cut.

Red eyes was all he could see in the dim, torch-lit surroundings, two pairs of hungry red eyes, bright with ruthless glee. And the fangs, the fangs that flashed in the fire light as they cackled and hissed threats at him.

The recent assault had created a gash across his stomach, a stream of red erupting goose bumps down his skin as he felt it drain from his body and form a growing pool beneath him.

The female-shaped silhouette shook with a raspy chuckle before bringing the offending weapon to her lips. Her tongue slid along the flat length of the dagger, gathering the fresh blood that stained its surface into her mouth.

The Nord watched in horror, resisting the urge to gag, while her companion observed the display with morbid interest.

He could not see her entire face, but he imagined that it twisted with disgust.

"You taste bitter Vigilant, you're scared." The female voice scoffed, "So why not spill your secrets before we have to spill anymore blood? Watching all this deliciousness drip onto the dirty ground is  _maddening_ , you know."

"I'll never tell you anything, vampire. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict upon me." The man spat back in his attackers' general direction after overcoming the initial shock, but too drained to lift himself to a sitting position.

"I believe you, Vigilant. And I don't think you even know what you've found here." A male voice responded, his steps seeming to echo for miles as the vampire stepped into full view.

The flickering light cast unflattering shadows over his sharp features, and his sunken, soulless gaze bore into the bleeding man so intensely it was difficult to maintain eye contact. He stood over the fallen Vigilant, who glared back with what little fire he had left. The vampire scowled down at him.

He lifted his sword, the tip of its blade scratching against the stone floor beneath them. Numbly, the Vigilant felt a sharp prick against his sternum.

"We are doing nothing but wasting time it seems, so go meet your beloved Stendarr." The vampire drawled, and with a quick lunge of his wrist, the Nord was no more.

A sickening  _schik_  sounded as the male vampire reclaimed his Orcish blade from the chest of the Vigilant, splatters of red dotting the uneven stone around the corpse.

He quickly shoved it into the sheath hanging from his hip, nose wrinkling as the acrid but appetizing smell flooded his every sense. It was overwhelming, and he wanted nothing more than to latch his fangs into the flesh of the Vigilant and...

Unlike his companion he was not some whelp who licked whatever drop she could find from any surface her tongue could reach. Lokil had more dignity than that.

Turning away, red eyes traveled to the center of the cavern where a circular island in the water stood.

Nothing. The Vigilant knew nothing, unsurprisingly.

Curious that his companion had not pounced onto the still-warm corpse to drain it dry with the manners of a blood-starved feral yet, he stole a glance over his shoulder.

She approached him, whatever sadistic streak she'd been getting off on during their "interrogation" gone.

"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil? He still might have told us something." She used her thumb to wipe at the corners of her lips, possibly searching for a missed speck of the Vigilant's blood.

Lokil sneered, facing away once more with her insufferable presence at his back.

Oblivious to his noncommunicable body language, she went on. "We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with..."

 _Nowhere. Nothing._  A spark of anger bubbled up Lokil's throat in the form of a growl.

"He knew nothing," The elder vampire hissed abruptly, taking a smug satisfaction in the way she jerked with alarm. "He served his purpose by leading us to this place, now it is up to us to bring Harkon the Scroll." Lokil finished with a fist clenched.

His frown suddenly went upward, flashing a wicked grin.  _Once I bring Harkon the Elder Scroll Vingalmo and Orthjolf can be put in their places at last._

This victory would surely raise his standing in the Court after centuries of being caught between those two morons and their half-witted struggle for dominance. If only Harkon knew just what rats his two scheming advisers were..

"And we will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this." Lokil continued through gritted teeth, beginning the march along the crumbling earth bridged that connected to the small central island. The Scroll was here.. somewhere in all of this ancient rubble.

The Mistwalker vampiress trailed behind him with an unnecessary sigh. "Yes, yes, Lokil. Do not forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery."

Lokil's eye twitched. "I never forget who my friends are," He retorted a little too sweetly. "Or my enemies."

Silence stretched between them as they stepped onto the island, rings circling along the floor, growing tighter as they approached the center. A pedestal was in the middle, along with randomly positioned braziers scattered all around it.

After several minutes of pushing the braziers from place to place experimentally, it seemed the puzzle had been solved, lighting the rings with iridescent purple flames. Though before he could celebrate, any further plans began shattering apart.

A low whistle cut the air, a noise so slight only a vampire's ears could detect it.

" _Ggh!_ " Blood drowned the Mistwalker's voice as it flooded her pierced throat, her body collapsing to the stone. The elder vampire whirled around on his heels, teeth already bared to the new threat.

His predator's gaze swept around the nearly pitch black surroundings before scanning his dead comrade. A small metal bolt was lodged into the female vampire's jugular. A projectile? Where had it come from?

"Thralls!" Lokil roared into the empty cavern, an icy feeling of unease swelling within him. The screech of metal soon followed as he ripped his Orcish sword from its sheathe.

Where the hell were they? He had guards positioned all throughout the cavern in case any other Vigilant stragglers decided to storm the place and stall his plans any further.

Spinning, eyes narrowed, Lokil squashed his rapidly rising fear when no one answered his summons. His thralls were dead, yet he was not alone.

"Show yourself!" The vampire hissed with false bravado, finding himself closer to the center pedestal. "Come down here and fight me, whelp!" Lokil challenged to the shadows with a threatening flourish of his sword.

A lone pebble clicked, and then rolled in the suffocating silence.

 _There!_  With a snarl, Lokil turned in the direction of the disturbance, and he was met with a steel bolt to his forehead.

She watched the vampire's head snap backward, expression a perpetual frown as his knees buckled. She'd learned that his name was Lokil.

An Orcish sword slipped from Lokil's dead grip, clattering to the stone. His body soon followed with a thud, face cracking to the floor afterward. She wondered how far the bolt was lodged into his skull by now.

The female figure rose from her prone position, a strange contraption of wire and wood clutched in one hand, the other steadying her fall as she dropped from the crumbling ledge to the gravelly ground lapped by the stagnant cavern pool.

Slinking with the grace of a cat, she crossed the small bridge with hurried steps, first crouching by the Mistwalker's corpse.

It was no use. The bolts were not as easily retrievable as arrows.

With a soft sigh, the woman didn't bother approaching the fallen Lokil, instead, she now gave the center pedestal her full attention. She hesitated in front of the iridescent wall of purple light, extending her hand to let the tips of her fingers test it. When they passed through harmlessly, she plunged through toward the pedestal.

For a minute or two she simply circled the stand, finally standing still with a thoughtful hand on her chin. Then she pressed the large button on its top that was just begging to be touched.

The spike that pierced all the way through her armored palm was unexpected.

Her breath hissed past her teeth as pain lanced its way up her arm from her hand, bringing her to a kneel and clutching the rims of the pedestal.

Her gauntlet was pure metal and hide, but the inch thick needle had shred through it like paper!

The unbearable stab of discomfort was gone as soon as it came, the spike retracting back into the pedestal with a distinctive click.

Allowing herself a gasp of relief, the woman uncurled herself and backed away from the stand that had been holding her captive. Slowly, she pulled her freshly wounded hand toward her face for inspection.

She looked right through the puncture now in the middle of her palm with a concerning amount of serenity, her only outward reaction being a raise of her eyebrow, attention falling upon the newly stained stone past the hole torn in her hand.

A fair amount of crimson had slipped loose from the heel of her gauntlet and met with the grey surface of the button, red rivets trailing down its rounded curves and seeping into the cracks of the structure.

The woman's lips pressed together, displeased.

Her blood had proven to be able to do some.. interesting things. Hopefully there was nothing too important in there.

* * *

The first of Serana's senses to make its return was smell.

The delectable scent was all around her, flooding her nose and spurring a waterfall in a mouth that felt as if it was as dry as the deserts of Elsweyr.

It was possibly the most tantalizing thing she had ever had the pleasure of smelling, and she immediately began to stir restlessly from within her stone prison. It was so intoxicating, so  _exquisite_ , that the vampire hardly cared  _where_  she was, as long as she could get  _out_ to pursue whatever delicacy was giving off such a stench.

Serana sucked in her next breath in her half-conscious stupor, and was nearly overwhelmed by the unnamed source of her desires. Her knees felt weak, and her stomach flooded with a fiery sensation of hunger that urged her to move, though the best she could manage was a feeble twitch.

The vampire attempted to move once more, and this time, much to her pleasure, she felt her stiff fingers tighten around her own shoulders.

Her hearing was working next, and fuzzily she heard the scraping of stone against stone all around her.

Now she had gained enough muscle control to command her expression, and almost instinctively Serana felt her tongue swiping over her top lip.

Following its retreat back into her mouth, the seal upon her stone prison was broken.

The scent was momentarily forgotten as stale air rushed into her, and Serana's unresponsive arms soon found their use as she felt her numb body falling forward.

Her joints and muscles cried when her shins and palms met the floor, the impact jolting her to what felt like her very core.

Thoroughly dazed, Serana remained in that position on her knees with one hand cradling her head while she tried to get her eyes to open.

Every single one of her thoughts resumed from the thumb her spell-induced slumber had squashed them under.

_What..? Is it.. is it over..? Mother?_

Just after this, her foggy conscious realized that the heartbeat thundering in her ears was far too strong to belong to a vampire such as herself or Valerica.

A low, feminine gasp broke into the still air, and even as soft as the sound had been, it needled into Serana's temple. The grate of metal, a sword sliding free of its sheathe, soon followed. The vampire then felt the sharp point of a weapon hovering closer to her than she would have liked.

Serana built up the resolve to at last let her bleary red eyes snap open, and immediately received a flash of pain that welled wetness in their corners. She had been in the dark for so long... this light was unbearable.

A sharp, irritating twinge gradually pulsing more and more urgently into her forehead, Serana stubbornly let her eyes travel up the length of the blade now consuming most of her vision.

The vampire squinted painfully up into the face of an unfamiliar mortal woman. Well, some part of it anyway. It was certainly a strange sight that greeted Serana only moments into her freedom: a mortal looming over her covered head to toe in gleaming ebony armor, the upper part of her face obscured by an intimidating horned helmet.

The only part of the woman's face Serana could see was her mouth, currently pulled down in a frown.

It was Serana's only means to anticipate the mortal's actions, so when her lips pressed together and her sword arm tensed, the vampire did what was necessary to ensure that her head remained right where it was supposed to be.

The mortal had been holding the weapon vertically, the flat of its blade in just the perfect position for the vampire to lower the hand cupping her forehead and use her knuckles to forcefully bat it away. Its hilt slipped from the mortal's grip, clattering to the stone ground and skidding far out of reach.

With a startled grunt the unarmed mortal quickly leaped backward, nearly tripping herself on the numerous stairs leading upward from Serana's monolith.

Safely out of a striking distance, one arm bent behind her back to unhook a strange weapon. It was a slab of wood with a miniature bow of sorts placed horizontally at its end. A bolt of metal was drawn back on its string. She took aim at the still-crouching vampire.

Serana slowly pulled her terribly aching body upright, the weapon trailing her every movement. There was no way in Oblivion she would just take a hit laying down, but for now she hoped to appear as nonthreatening as a vampire could become. She was in no mood or shape for fighting.

"I d-don't..." Her voice was weak, each word scorching her throat that was sore from centuries of silence. "I don't want to fight.. but I will defend myself." Serana rasped, tired eyes searching for a response on the mortal's mostly concealed face.

It was most definitely _not_  her mother, but a mortal, a nosy mortal that had probably just stumbled upon her in search of some ancient treasure or arcane knowledge. Serana was sorry to disappoint; there was nothing of that sort here, just a very disoriented vampire with serious daddy and mommy issues.

She clamped her teeth down on her parched tongue, the prick of her fangs a suitable distraction from thoughts of the walking relief to her thirst in front of her.

Armor clinked as the contraption was lowered, though it wavered in Serana's direction. The vampire eyed the weapon, feeling secure enough to avert her eyes from the mortal for a split-second. What was that thing? She'd never seen anything like it before.

"Very well." The soft voice startled Serana into lifting her face to the woman's. It was a voice that held power, though the mortal spoke evenly, quietly, as if subdued by that very power.

Serana might even say that her voice was pleasant on the ears; it was lyrical and flowing, and she imagined the mortal's singing must have been as equally lovely.

 _Ugh, focus, Serana._  The vampire shook her head lightly.

But.. this woman was odd. There was something.. something  _off_  with her. Serana could feel the overwhelming power coming off her in waves. It felt like an ancient aura of sorts not too different from her own that sent shivers down the vampire's undead body. Trying to make a meal out of her might not end as well as she had been initially hoping.

After much internal debate on what she should ask first, Serana tested her own voice once more. "Who.. sent you here?"

"Who were you expecting?" The mortal replied almost instantly, though monotonously.

Serana fidgeted, scrutinizing eyes giving the mortal another once-over. There was no way her mother.. or her father would have sent a  _mortal_  to retrieve her. If.. if that was what this was about. Had the situation been resolved? Were either of her parents even still alive?

A pang struck the vampire, her brows furrowed. Her mother promised, she promised to wake Serana up herself when the trouble had passed. Had.. had her mother _forgotten_  about her? Or was she dead?

Serana's lovely mouth was pulled down in a frown. She should've been speaking to her mother at a time like this, not some simple mortal woman. She could not help but feel slightly.. betrayed by Valerica. Well, slightly  _more_  betrayed.

"Well, someone like me.. at least." She murmured in reply, unable to hide just how dejected she was.

The mortal's head tilted in such a way that it came off as.. calculating. Her movements were too slow, almost frighteningly calculating, lips twitching sideways before she spoke. "I see.. well, someone like you  _would_  have found you I suppose. If I had not killed them first."

Serana's eyes widened. Turning away from her mortal "rescuer", she took note of the closest corpse. A master vampire... his weapon was discarded at his side, leaned halfway onto the top step. She could not see his face; therefore she could not see the bolt lodged deeply into his skull or the black blood leaking down his forehead.

So her savior and potential meal was  _actually_  a vampire hunter. A rather skilled vampire hunter, apparently, if she had managed to clear the entire crypt. Wonderful.

"They spoke of you as some sort of prize, I doubt they had good intentions," The mortal then paused, as if deciding whether her next statement was appropriate enough to say. "...the Dawnguard would want me to kill you." Her voice demanded the vampire's attention again.

Serana's half-lidded eyes glared cautiously at the woman. Even with such a vaguely threatening remark, the mortal's presence and tone were neutral.

So.. someone, either of her parents, had sent for her. They were searching for her. She had to get home, and hope that her father hadn't impaled her mother's head on a spike to decorate the courtyard.

Shrugging off her unease, Serana crossed her arms. She had no idea who this "Dawnguard" was, a lot of people in Skyrim wanted she and her family dead.

"Not fond of vampires, I'm guessing?" She needed to think of something fast before this mortal lost her patience and decided to try to kill her already. Her utmost priority right now was finding her family and figuring out what the hell was going on. "Well, look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on."

The mortal's silence afterward was troubling, but eventually she lowered the weapon, holding its handle with one hand. The other hung limply at her side. Serana couldn't help but notice the peculiar, perfect hole in the center of her gauntlet, or the small amount of drying crimson around it.

Her nose flared, breathing in that.. that tantalizing scent.

This smell… it was what had woken her, and it was heavenly.  _Who_  was with this woman?

Suddenly the hunger her anxiety and exhaustion had wiped from her conscious had returned at full force. The mortal was bleeding—or had been bleeding. And it even that minuscule amount of it nearly had the vampire pouncing on her right then and there.

 _No.. no no nono._  Attacking the mortal now was not a smart move. Serana was in a weakened state, and just as fast as she could leap at her the woman could raise her weird bow-and-bolt device and pierce the hungry vampire through her head.

Damn her mother's guile. The mortal must have fallen victim to one of Valerica's traps in the process of freeing Serana from the monolith.

With a few small shakes of her head, Serana did her best to stay focused on the mortal's now grimacing mouth. She'd been caught staring and possibly drooling like a starving hound.

"What happened to your hand?" The words just tumbled from Serana almost frantically as she tried to smother the building desire heating every inch of her undead body. Her fangs ached, twin spikes of pain piercing the flesh of her mouth.

If it was even possible, the mortal's frown deepened. She lifted her slightly reddened gauntlet, and Serana could feel the frigid glare directed at her through the helmet. "...Trust me when I say I am  _not_  an easy target, vampire."

This mortal was a genuine firebrand, huh? In a begrudgingly respectful sort of way, Serana admired her gall.

Serana couldn't help but feel challenged, and fueled by the wickedness of her thirst, the vampire flashed a full-toothed grin in response. She felt an uncharacteristic surge of vindication at the mortal's reaction, whose heart skipped a beat and chest jerked with a sharp inhale.

"Would you like to test that?" She offered in a low voice, empowered by the fear a mere smile had achieved her.

The moment the words left her mouth, Serana clamped her lips together.

She was being a fool, provoking the mortal like this. Who knew how much the world had changed since when she had been put away; she needed help finding her mother, and she'd have to rely on this mortal and her deliciously-smelling blood for it right now.

It would be so much simpler to just enthrall her, but she'd blown that chance spectacularly with her little display. She'd reminded the mortal exactly what she was dealing with, a vampire, and it was a poor decision on Serana's part, really.

She could always merely seduce the woman into giving her a taste of her own free will… but now was hardly the time for that, and judging from the woman's personality, it would take a lot more than a couple flattering words and fluttering eyelashes to break her. Serana was not even entirely sure that she  _could_  pull that off, and that was saying something. Serana was as charismatic as a vampire came, at least, by her own standards.

"Look, I'm sorry. That was just a tease. I promise I won't try to attack you. I need your help finding my way home." Serana willed her hunger away, the steamy sensation fading with each passing breath she forced her normally still chest to perform.

"Where do you need to go?" The woman replied stiffly.

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do." She'd had her fun; it was the least Serana could do to be civil. "By the way.. my name is Serana. Good to meet you." Her polite introduction could have possibly been more sincere, had she not threatened the mortal a moment before.

"Yes, likewise." The vampire perked up, ready to receive a title other than "mortal" to address her rescuer with. "Why were you locked away in there?"  _Guess not._

Serana almost choked on her needless breath at that.  _Locked away in there.._  She turned to the gaping monolith that had once contained her, panic bringing her body to life with every skip of her equally unnecessary heartbeat.

_Dark, dark, it had been so dark and small. The walls were closing in on her, swallowing every inch of light and smothering the air.._

"That's c-complicated..." Unable to control the quaking of her voice, Serana hastily put as much distance as she could between herself and the monolith. She faced the mortal. Not even her physical inability to flush could hide the flustered appearance of the vampire, and inwardly she cursed herself for allowing the woman to see this weakness.

"If you wanna know to the whole story, please help me get back to my family's home."

Serana tried gauging the mortal's expression. It was difficult. Her mouth remained in that unreadable line.

The mortal shifted into her other foot, armor clanking.

"A claustrophobic vampire..?" The woman said quietly in an almost pondering tone. "Alright, okay. But one more thing:" Her free hand rose, a metal-coated finger jabbing at the vampire. "Is that an Elder Scroll?"

The words tore through Serana like lightning. She peered over her own shoulder to glance wide-eyed at the end of the legendary scroll, secured against her back by a strap over her chest.

Quickly regaining her composure, Serana mustered up whatever firmness she had to glare briefly at the meddlesome mortal. "..Y-yes," Her cold fingers were then wrapping protectively around its thin leather strap. "..And it's  _mine_."

 _How the hell could I have forgotten about this?_  She scolded herself. This damn artifact was the sole reason for her imprisonment. It  _had_  been imprisonment.

If the mortal wanted the Scroll, there was no way in Oblivion Serana would hand it over easily. Her mother entrusted her with it, even if Serana had no clue why... but the only way it would be leaving her care was if Valerica asked for it back herself... or if her father ripped it from her hands.

Hopefully it would not come to a fight. Serana did not fancy the idea of going toe-to-toe with this mortal just yet, at least not until she had regained her full strength.

"Okay. Fine, vampire, I'll help you get home." Thank the Gods she was willing to drop the subject so quickly.

Serana let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, and watched as the mortal tracked down her discarded sword. It was a truly beautiful blade; Serana couldn't help but admire the weapon that looked more like a sliver of midnight as her rescuer slid it into a leather sheathe hanging from her left hip. That beautiful blade had almost sliced her head off.

The mortal looked over her armored shoulder at the vampire, who hadn't moved an inch in case moving closer would be seen as an act of aggression. "Well, any idea how to get out of here?"

With a great amount of complaining from her aching body, Serana made her way up the steps, careful to leave a couple feet between herself and the mortal. Her keen eyes swept the area, searching the shadowed cavern for an exit. Everything looked bitten away by time, but still just as dingy and disgusting as she remembered caves to be.

Guided by her own, however muddled memory, Serana looked to the right of her stone prison toward a half-buried set of stairs, leading to a path where a solitary wooden door looked rather out of place in the stone and earth crypt wall.

But something caught her eye before that. A statue. It was expertly carved, every ugly detail of a hulking gargoyle crafted masterfully. It was unnatural, dangerous, that much Serana could remember. That was no ordinary statue. It was another one of her mother's creations.

"Yes.." Serana faced the mortal, a little alarmed to find the woman looking directly at her already. "Over there is a door, but I should warn you.. I think that statue will come to life once we get close." She gestured to the hunched gargoyle.

"What? Really?" The woman uttered, a small amount emotion creeping into her voice. Surprise? Awe? She was not easy to read, and Serana despised it.

Boldly, the mortal marched up the steps, drawing her blade. Serana rushed to follow. Hopefully she had not lost her edge after all this time of inactivity. However, the sudden movement did have her head spinning.

"Does the air feel heavy.. to you down here? I'm a little woozy.. maybe it's just from waking up." Serana made an attempt at small talk as the mortal went ahead, hesitating at the top step when the vampire raised her voice.

My, she was in a pitiful state, a Daughter of Coldharbour relying on a total stranger, a mortal, a vampire hunter. Her father would be rolling over in his coffin at the sight of it.

"Leave this to me if you're feeling too out of it." The mortal reassured her, though she kept her back turned, ebony sword poised as she took several more steps towards the still unmoving statue.

Serana was certain the woman was more than capable of defending herself, a blessing to have her as a bodyguard, but a curse if she was hoping to get any blood out of this exchange.

The vampire's red eyes tracked the woman's progress in the near complete darkness, her steps made no sound at all, a curious feature Serana had recently noticed. The boots must have been enchanted, that, or Serana's ears were clogged with dust.

Yes, unfortunately, the mortal seemed to be more than capable enough, but that did not give Serana the excuse to be useless. She was definitely  _not_  some pathetic damsel in distress.

"I'm not going to just stand in the corner twiddling my thumbs while you fight." The mortal stopped again, her slumping posture giving away annoyance, perhaps. Trying to guess what the woman was feeling was about as effective as having a conversation with a tree.

"Give me a second, please." Serana pleaded, casting a wary glance to the gargoyle. Even as the mortal stood less than ten feet away, it still had not roused as she was certain it eventually would.

"Okay.." Her rescuer nodded lightly, straightening herself out to stab the end of her blade into the stone ground, and lean lightly on its handle.

The vampire murmured a thanks, lifting both palms outward, awakening the magic within her. Frost gathered in her right hand, the other pulsing a menacing crimson. She also carried a dagger, she remembered, stealing a glance at her left hip. Sure enough, the handle of an ancient Elven dagger peeked out from its sheath.

"Are you ready?" The mortal's lilting voice broke her chain of thoughts, so with a small huff Serana looked up the woman, still standing in that strangely insufferable, casual stance.

Nodding with new-found determination, Serana prepared an ice spike, the frost clouding her pallid hand in a miniature blanket of fog.

The woman immediately resumed without hesitation, not even when the stone beast suddenly exploded to life with an ear-splitting shriek and a shower of stones. The creature lunged for her mortal rescuer, who raised her ebony blade positioned sideways to reflect the powerful swipe it threw.

_Dammit, mother. Just because I remember how to fight doesn't mean I want to fight your hellish creations!_

Serana's ice spike lodged itself into the monster's muscular back as its clawed hands reached for the woman, the spear of ice being a suitable distraction from the retreating mortal, forcing another loud shriek of pain from the creature.

It rounded on the vampire, ready to charge her instead, but the mortal took advantage of the diversion. The creature was made quick work of by a single stab of the mortal's sword, straight through its broad chest.

Emitting a final howl of defeat, Serana watched as her mother's creation erupted in cracks, and then crumbled to a pile dust right before her.

The mortal's helmet was tilted downward, eyeing the pile before crouching, her free hand sifting through the rubble. Serana observed the process without question, not surprised to see the mortal retrieve a sparkling gem from the dust. The woman pocketed the rather stunning jewel into a knapsack slung over her back before rising from her crouch.

It was a sentient weapon her mother managed to fashion with alchemy. Fascinating, but also very terrifying. Valerica had always been.. scarily inventive. The fact that she had dozens of these monsters stashed all throughout Volkihar Keep was even more terrifying.

"I have never encountered an enemy like this before. Was it sustained with magic? It must have sat dormant for centuries, yet it was still able to activate and attack..." Whether the question was directed at her, or simply an out-loud musing, Serana answered the mortal's muttering anyway.

"It was one of my mother's many experiments. She has a knack for creating stuff like this, and probably most of the traps you passed through exploring this crypt." The woman's helmet tilted upward to look the vampire in the face as she spoke. Serana found her forwardness off-putting. She was used to being treated with a lot more caution.

"Hmm." The woman grumbled, left hand clenching. It was the same hand with the hole in its gauntlet. Serana bit her tongue again, and for some reason, she felt that she should.. keep talking.

"My mother," The vampire added breathlessly, feeling strangely flustered all of a sudden. Why was she getting all awkward over this.. this mortal? Was it her strange disposition finally catching up on her? This mortal was a little, well, weird, for lack of a better word.

Serana swallowed, exhaling through her nose. "My mother kind of has a thing for magical constructs."

The vampire watched the mortal's lips part, as if she were going to speak, but they remained like that for several long seconds.

"A.. thing?" The woman said incredulously.

Serana's shoulders stiffened automatically, and hastily she shook her head. "Oh, no, what? Gods, not like that!"

Ugh, but she  _had_  said it exactly like that, like her mother had some sick fetish for magical constructs. The vampire felt like approaching the nearest wall and banging her head against it.

"Oh." The mortal offered softly, and from the way her mouth was pressed in a line, Serana could imagine the nonplussed expression she was giving her. "Let's.. go, then." With that, she turned her back to the vampire, climbing the slope to the lone wooden door.

Serana did not follow right away, she closed her eyes, lifted her palms to her face, and groaned quietly into them. She would like to forget that conversation as soon as possible. Never in her adult life had she been through such an artless exchange of words.

The Volkihar Court had been political and vicious, but Serana had adapted quickly with her boundless wit, sarcasm, and charm. Usually she was the on reducing others to stuttering messes with her silver tongue; she never stumbled over her words or spoke out of haste like she had done back there.

It had been the mortal's fault, the vampire decided. She was an absolutely dreadful conversationalist.

Opening her eyes, the vampire began to trail after the woman, gazing curiously at her the entire way.

 _Why?_  Why was this happening? She was being escorted by a mortal, a mortal vampire slayer to be reunited with her family. A family that the woman must know would be more vampires. Was she utterly mad? Why hadn't she cut up Serana like a fresh sweet roll yet? It would mean one less vampire in the world to this mortal, and she'd have an Elder Scroll in her hands.

She was a pretty lousy vampire-hunter, Serana had to say.

As the woman pushed the wooden door inward to reveal a musty, dark tunnel, Serana couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "May I ask something?"

The woman continued walking, lifting her left hand and bringing to life a tiny gold-tinted flame to light the way. "Yes?"

Fascinated by the fire, Serana barely noticed her automatic movements forward.  _She knows magic?_  She shook her head again, looking at the back of the mortal's horned helmet. "Why.. why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

Serana watched the woman's armored shoulders shrug, gliding ahead with far too little concern about a vampire being at her back. "Aside from that dinner look you keep giving me, you seem nice." She replied nonchalantly.

The vampire held in a rather unladylike snort. "I _seem_  nice? I'm a vampire. You're a vampire slayer."

They turned a corner in the winding tunnel, the woman's flame casting eerie shadows over the visible part of her face. " _Vampire_ -slaying isn't really my thing. You didn't try to rip my throat out the moment you laid eyes on me, unlike the other vampires I waded through to get here, so why  _shouldn't_  I help you?"

Serana was truly taken aback. This mortal, this stranger, really was willing trust her, a vampire, so freely? In a way it was somewhat flattering, but that sort of naivety would ultimately be her downfall.

She did not answer with words, only a short, inquisitive hum.

They soon emerged into a room lined with suspicious black coffins. Serana recognized them. In her youth she had enjoyed playing tricks on the slow-witted dead that would appear from within.

With a rush of nostalgia, the vampire continued trailing her rescuer like a duckling.

Serana soon learned that her old playmates had grown a lot more hostile and bitter over her years of absence.

It was strange how well they worked together, like two interlocking pieces of a puzzle.

She and the mortal easily cut a path through a horde of draugr that burst from the walls, rose from the ground, or crawled free from tombs before entering another small tunnel. A lone torch burned in its holder at the end, lighting way to a massive room.

It looked like a crumbling coliseum, rows and rows of stairs for spectators surrounding a long abandoned central square arena. To the farthest wall there was a ledge, where a grime and cobweb covered throne stood. A slumped skeletal-looking being sat in it, its head covered by a black helmet with two twisted horns on its front. Behind the throne was an impressively large chest. Several other human-like silhouettes were scattered in sprawled positions all over the steps as well, archaic swords and maces close by.

The whole thing practically screamed "trap".

Serana realized that the woman had lowered to a crouch, and quickly did the same.

Once she was eye-level, the mortal spoke faintly in her silk-like voice. "That's a draugr Deathlord. He'll most likely know a Shout."

The vampire shifted her questioning gaze from the mortal's now still lips to the hunched figure. "A Shout?"

Metal clinked. She felt the helmet turn to face her. Serana took a wild guess that the mortal was giving her an incredulous look beneath it. "A Dragon Shout, you know? Words of Power?"

 _Oh!_  Words of Power? Serana had read something about that before, and had even taken some time to learn several words in Dragon Tongue. She never thought she'd bear witness to the powerful magic herself, though.

"Huh." Before she had even spoken the woman was already halfway down the first set of steps, crossing over the bottom step of the left rows to climb to the occupied throne.

Serana shot to her feet, feeling a little smarted that the mortal had left her behind. She hurried down the steps, though her rescuer already stood in front of the rooted corpse.

" _Be careful._ " Serana couldn't stop herself from calling to the dauntless woman, who, blade drawn, twisted to glimpse down at the vampire from the elevated ledge.

In the end Serana suspected the outburst was a mistake on her part, because once the mortal's attention had been caught, even for that short second, the Deathlord's luminous blue eyes glowed to life, and its black mouth opened to utter three words that felt as if they shook the entire crypt.

" _Zun Haal Viik_!" Its strange other-worldly voice echoed throughout the coliseum, a visible ripple of power crashing into the stunned mortal. Her sword was flung from her grip, swallowed into the shadows with a clang as the Deathlord pulled himself upright.

The other corpses had begun rising in response to the disturbance similarly, reaching for their weapons and grasping them in bony hands.

Overcoming the loss of her own blade, the woman scrambled to avoid the swipe of the Deathlord's massive greatsword.

"Take care of the others; I will get rid of the Deathlord!" Serana heard the woman shout above her, already letting loose an ice spike that impaled itself into the skull of the nearest draugr with a crunch.

With an apologetic grimace the mortal would never see, Serana did as she had been ordered, picking off each stumbling target one after the other as they hobbled toward her.

Above her, she heard the hiss of what sounded like fire, and the thudding footsteps of both the draugr and the woman. Only the Deathlord remained.

Serana dismissed her magic, shuffling backward far enough just in time to see the woman blast the draugr's head clean from its skeletal shoulders with a flame-veiled gauntlet. The undead creature sunk to its knees, weapon clattering to the stone and charred, disembodied head rolling.

So she  _did_  know magic, unless flaming hands were just apart of her exceedingly confusing existence.

 _Still impressive._ Serana inwardly praised, though she was unable to smother the guilty feeling surging through her.

"Sorry about that." The vampire called from the arena.

Nudging the charred, headless corpse with the toe of her boot, the mortal shrugged. "It's nothing. Go find my sword, would you?"

Serana complied, putting her predatory gaze to use to locate the blade in the inky darkness. The mortal shifted about the ledge above her, the creak of hinges meaning she'd opened the chest waiting behind the now empty throne.

Serana returned to the mortal, lost weapon in hand, only to find the woman standing very still in front of a carved mural in the wall.

Eyes narrowing, the vampire observed the word wall alongside her rescuer, dismayed to discover that she recognized the peculiar markings. It was Dragon Tongue. Serana's still groggy mind raced to gather the little knowledge she had of the exclusive dialect.

"There's a Word of Power on this wall." The mortal's soothing voice derailed Serana from her thoughts, eyes focusing on a single draconic scrawl her rescuer's metal-covered finger was touching. " _Gaan_." The relatively unheard of language rolled off the mortal's tongue smoothly.

"Stamina." Serana supplied, giving the mortal an interested stare. So she could read Dragon Tongue, a notable feat. "Can you read anything else?" The vampire pressed, wishing, not for the first time, that the mortal's entire face was visible.

She watched the woman, back still turned, as her hand brushed along with the carvings slowly. The mortal did not answer right away.

" _Het..nok kopr-..._ Here lies the body..  _do_..of Svolo,  _wo..piraak mul..._ who possessed strength to kill a dragon.." Her index finger found itself resting on  _Gaan_  for the second time. "But not the  _gaan_ -stamina to kill many."

Serana listened in awe as the mortal translated the entire piece fluently, with not one single stutter or extended moment of pause. "Incredible. How did you..?"

"I took interest in the lore of dragons some time ago. Learning their language was a must to understand artifacts and read ancient tomes." The woman explained as she twirled on her heel to face Serana. She lifted one hand toward the vampire, palm open.

Serana peered down dumbly at the awaiting hand for a good second before remembering she still held the mortal's ebony blade in her own. She deposited the blade into its owners expecting gauntlet.

Silently, the vampire's rescuer secured her weapon into its sheath before passing Serana, climbing the staircase leading upward to a rusted double iron door.

It most likely led to freedom. Outside, the outside Serana had longed for since she'd tumbled free of that claustrophobic, glorified coffin.

"One second." The beautiful Skyrim scenery would have to wait, unfortunately.

The mortal halted, standing just before the door at the top of the staircase.

"Will you reveal yourself to me?"

Serana swore she saw the mortal's lips twitch upward, as if barely suppressing a smile, head tilted sideways to address the vampire over her shoulder. "My, you're quite forward, we just met."

_What?_

_Ah._  Perhaps that came out a bit too suggestively. Serana shook her head with a jaded expression. This mortal had a strange sense of humor.

"I meant your face. You haven't shared your name, so showing me your face is a fair trade, no?"

The woman turned herself around fully. Serana hated not being able to see her expression. Hopefully this would be good enough bait to get that name out of her.

"My name?" A lull of silence stretched between them. Then, the only visible part of her face, her lips, pressed together. "My name is unimportant, and so is my identity." The mortal concluded with a tone of finality, effectively shutting the notion down by rudely turning her back to the vampire and resuming up the stairs.

Serana held in a hiss of irritation, chest heaving as she inhaled deeply. Red eyes stabbed into the armored figure of the woman ascending upward into the tunnel.

The mortal..  _brushed_  her off just like that! Who the hell did she think she was? If she weren't so valuable at the moment, Serana might have just leaped at her then and there to beat some manners into her.

Her mouth tasted bitter when she swallowed the lump of anger tightening her throat, plastering on a paper smile directed at the mortal woman approaching the double doors like she had been planning to do before.

"What am I supposed to call you, then?" Serana spoke still at the foot of the staircase in a slightly wavering voice, trying, and failing to mask her disapproval.

The mortal braced her body against the door's handle, rust-covered hinges groaning in complaint, before it swung inward. Pausing, dust specks drifting in the air all around in the mouth of the darkened tunnel, the woman's hand lifted, waving back and forth dismissively.

Her flat tone and brusque wording was not at all suited for her pleasing voice.

"Whatever you like, vampire. I couldn't care less." Still, she had not bothered at all to turn and face Serana as she replied, and disappeared into the shadowed passageway moments later.

 _I have quite a few appropriate ideas.._  The vampire seethed internally, both hands curled into fists at her sides.

Serana ascended the stairs, passing through the doorway and allowing her fake smile to drop. She gazed upward, where the woman now stood before a closed iron gate, one hand hooked into the circular handle of a chain snaking out of the wall. With the clicking of chain links, she tugged it.

The old metal gate shot upward with a bang, revealing a short tunnel illuminated with faint sunlight and whistling with the frigid mountain wind.

Serana winced at the idea of sunlight bathing her pale skin, but the potential freedom of being out of the disgusting cave overpowered memories of the unpleasant experience.

Eager to feel fresh air against her face rather than the stench of Dimhollow Crypt, Serana started toward the light that stung her still-adjusting, sensitive pupils.

An icy gauntlet wrapping around her wrist brought the vampire to a standstill. By some miracle, she managed not to act on her knee-jerk response to swing around and plant a fist right into the mortal's perfect mouth.

"Serana, wait," Serana looked back at the mortal, a curious feeling warming her chest at the sound of her own name coming from a stranger's lips, even if currently she and said stranger's personalities were clashing. "Doesn't sunlight.. hurt you?" The mortal let the vampire's wrist free, who stiffly drew it toward her chest.

This damn woman was such a walking contradiction. One moment she was treating Serana like an insignificance, and the next she was vocally expressing her worry for her safety?

To hide the perplexity twisting her expression, Serana faced the tunnel's exit , nose flaring as cool drafts slipped in, howling faintly. It carried the sharp scent of pine and ice. "The worst it does is fatigue us, I'll be fine."

The woman was still, her apathetic nature as apparent as ever. "I see. Very well." She replied, a flat edge to her enchanting voice, marching ahead of the vampire to be swallowed in the near-blinding outside glow.

Serana wanted to growl. There she went again, back to the aloof, I-don't-care demeanor.

The vampire pursued her.

The moment the sun's rays met her deathly pallid skin, Serana felt like collapsing face-first into the drift. The vampire managed to keep her footing however, knees wobbling, but senses exploding with all sorts of welcome sights and smells she had not known for far too long.

She was acutely aware of the mortal's gaze upon her the entire time, but found herself drowning in the blissful feeling of feathery snowflakes brushing across her cheeks. Magnificent snow-covered mountains and frost-licked fir trees stretched as far as she could see, a lovely blanket of fluffy snowflakes blowing sideways in the Skyrim wind.

It was a much more splendid sight than those dripping cavern walls and bone-covered dirt floors.

Serana tilted her head skyward, eyes half-lidded to block out the persisting, sinister sunlight. "Ah. It's so good to breath freely again." Her breath did not create a cloud as the mortal's did when she spoke. "This weather is incredible."

"Yes." The woman agreed curtly in monotone.

Serana faced the mortal, finding her knee-deep in a patch of snow, a fully unfolded map held before her. "Now.. on the matter of your family's home," She approached the vampire, whose eyes trailed her movements sluggishly.

Standing a comfortable distance from the ancient vampire, she presented the map to Serana, her index finger placed on a random mountain near a small coat-of-arms with  _Dawnstar_  scrawled in graceful letters beside it. "We are here, but I would like to make a stop at Dawnstar first before heading for Solitude."

Reactions and thoughts slowed by the harsh glare of the daylight, Serana only managed an affirmative grunt in response while blinking slowly at the exceptionally detailed map. The mortal's personality may not have been all that great, but her penmanship was so.. nice.

Fresh ink was slightly smudged next to a tiny drawing of a cave,  _Dimhollow Crypt_. Serana wondered how much the world had changed since her being locked away. "Okay.. that's okay with me. Could we.. get moving? The sun's not that great for my skin, if you know what I mean."

Her escort gathered the map together, folding it neatly before slipping it into a pouch on the side of her bag. "I am aware." Serana was gaining the suspicion that her boots were indeed enchanted when they did not even crunch in the snow as the mortal began hiking down the slope.

"You know.." Trailing doggedly after her savior, Serana's gaze snapped up to look at the back of the woman's helmet when she unexpectedly continued speaking. "If the sun's not that great for your skin, that cleavage window you have there doesn't make much sense."

"W-what..?" Serana instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, where in fact, the collar of her vest dipped a little lowly under the folds of the short cape fastened around her neck by a silver brooch.

Incredulous, the vampire allowed a long moment of pause as she and the mortal waded through the snow, red eyes piercing into the spot between her escort's shoulders.

Was the woman...teasing her? Initially she had presented herself as the no-nonsense, terse type, but.. Serana could not decide whether to feel scorn or confusion toward this mortal, so she went with the easiest escape: sarcasm.

"I'll have you know this is considered very stylish where I'm from." The vampire sniffed haughtily.

This earned her a pithy, but oddly charming bit of laughter from the mortal. "Really, now? I can't imagine you get many complaints."

Serana did not quite understand the satisfying rush of triumph that washed over her, as she quickened her pace in the snow to stay close, a faint smile tugging at her lips.


	2. Dragonborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Many people have heard the term "Dragonborn" - we are of course ruled by the "Dragonborn Emperors" - but the true meaning of the term is not commonly understood. We come to the question of the true meaning of being Dragonborn. The connection with dragons is so obvious that it has almost been forgotten - in these days when dragons are a distant memory, we forget that in the early days being Dragonborn meant having "the dragon blood". Some scholars believe that was meant quite literally, although the exact significance is not known. The Nords tell tales of Dragonborn heroes who were great dragonslayers, able to steal the power of the dragons they killed."_  
>  -Prior Emelene Madrine: "The Book of the Dragonborn"

They had been walking for scarcely an hour before the woman suggested stopping for a rest in the shade of a snow-covered shale ledge.

Serana agreed weakly, the burning in her throat having become ten times worse trudging under the unforgiving radiance of the afternoon sun. She clumsily lowered herself to the snow-peppered ground, head bowed, arms crossed.

No words were exchanged for what felt like eons, only the rush of the mountain wind, the rustle of the pines, and the mortal's steady breathing filling the vampire's ears.

Her thirst was growing by the minute, every swallow, every  _breath_  scorching a trail down Serana's unbelievably dry throat. She'd simply stopped breathing after some agonizing amount of time had gone and went, still as a statue while snowflakes gathered and stuck to her motionless body.

It was solely willpower that kept her from pouncing on the closest living creature and sinking her fangs into it. The closest living creature just happened to be her escort, the woman, so restraining herself from doing so was quite important.

 _Not yet.. not yet.. you need her._ Serana kept her eyes screwed shut. She couldn't even look at the mortal.

The pile was steadily growing on each shoulder when the woman's voice startled Serana from her denial-induced trance.

"Vampire. You're looking a little rough down there." Serana lifted her head languidly. A quickly dissipating cloud of breath was curling from the mortal's now closed mouth.

 _Oh, mortal. You haven't the faintest idea..._  Vision slightly blurry, Serana blinked up at the standing woman. She was beginning to look fairly appetizing, a bad sign.

Serana was determined to have a touch of her rescuer's blood when the opportunity presented itself, but now was not the ideal time. Perhaps she'd make a pet of her once returned to Volkihar Castle; she was turning out to be delightful company...

The vampire choked back the cynical bark of laughter she felt filling her blazing lungs. No.. as if that  _would_  happen, this woman she had found could probably fight off the entire court with one finger.

"Y-yes.. I'm not doing so well." The few words stung her throat fiercely, so Serana swallowed thickly, struggling to maintain eye contact with the mortal's inexpressive helmet instead of the little bit of her exposed throat. Her eardrums practically thundered with every strong beat of the human's heart. "I need.. s-something... any blood will do at this point."

The woman pushed off the rock she had been leaning against since their arrival. "Any blood? Will animal blood do?"

Serana's nose wrinkled at the offer, though she dropped it hastily, hoping the woman had not taken notice. She'd much rather prefer hers, but the chance of that happening right now was pretty slim.

Now was not the time to be a picky, spoiled little princess, she needed blood before this thirst drove her mad.

"Yes,  _anything_." She breathed, unable to hide the desperation creeping into her voice.

The helmet looked down at her for another torturous moment longer, before the woman reached behind her back to secure the strange tiny-bow weapon in her hands.

"Sit tight. I'll find something to sate your needs until Dawnstar." The promise hanging between them, the mortal began trudging toward the brush, disappearing through branches and leaves weighed down by the newly fallen snow.

Though to the blood-starved vampire it felt like ages, the woman returned a short time later, dragging a sizable deer behind her through the snow.

Perhaps the mortal was not so impolite after all.

* * *

When the outline of Dawnstar was finally creeping into sight through the pines, night had long since fallen, and Serana was feeling as refreshed as ever since being freed.

The deer blood had tided her off, though its unsavory aftertaste was not enjoyable. It came nowhere near the quality of human blood she had once sustained herself with, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

The mortal had been kind enough to bring her  _something_ , and even though it had been a musk-tasting beast, the vampire was thankful for the generous gesture, though it did nothing to help her better understand the woman's motives. Just what was this mortal up to, rescuing, escorting, and keeping a vampire fed?

The woman walked down the snow-packed road silently, a lantern she'd seemingly pulled from thin air lighting her way in the pitch black surroundings. Serana followed a little ways behind, occasionally wandering from the path to admire the beautiful white surroundings.

One thing she never grew tired of, and had thankfully not changed too much was Skyrim's glorious scenery, whether it was a frigid tundra or wildflower-filled meadow. She was just happy to be out of that damn suffocating crypt.

It wasn't as if she had anything better to occupy the trip with. Her escort was proving to be a woman of few words. She'd rarely spoken a complete sentence since dusk, though Serana was also suspecting she'd simply tired and had run out of energy to do so.

Tired, because mortals needed sleep, not blood. Yes, her escort was a mortal. A mortal who was not about to make herself vulnerable in the company of a vampire. Her need for rest was probably why she'd demanded they make a stop at the nearest city before traveling all the way to the coasts of Solitude. Serana understood; it was a logical move she could respect.

Crossing back onto the cobblestone road, Serana gazed past the woman's horned silhouette, over the treeline to the nearing shadow of Dawnstar.

The city appeared far too... bright. She caught a whiff of smoke traveling on the breeze. Was that.. fire?

So closely fixated on the distant city and the alarming presence of smoke, Serana nearly collided with the woman, noticing at the last moment that she had stopped. The vampire caught herself, promptly backing away a few steps.

"Hey..?" She inquired after the woman had stood rigid for a solid thirty seconds.

The lantern swung in its handle as the woman twisted sideways, facing the right side of the road. Its glow shone past several trees, before being blocked by a tangle of snow-sprayed bushes. A rancid, unfamiliar scent had overpowered the smoke.

" _B'vek!_ " The woman hissed softly in a foreign language.. Dunmeri if the vampire was hearing her correctly.

Serana's perplexed  _what?_  had barely left her lips when a massive gust swept over the trees, rattling leaves and causing both women to stumble under the sheer force.

Hair being tugged and whipped by the sudden gale, Serana forced her eyes shut and relied on her hearing instead to identify the odd leathery flap of wings interrupting the night's calm.

 _Wings? What in the name of Oblivion?_  Serana heard the lantern clatter to the stone path, its flame snuffed out by the shock of hitting the earth. The woman was engulfed in darkness, frozen in place in response to the loss of her light source. Serana, however, could see just as well as she did in the daylight.

So, she could also see the  _dragon_  rising into the air over the quivering treeline with every powerful flap of its wings.

Gaping in shock, Serana could hardly believe her eyes as she peered up into the face of a  _dragon_. Was she hallucinating?  _A dragon!?_ Dragons had been declared extinct even in her time!

It was hovering, wings continuing to pump in order to keep its colossal body upright in the air, glowering down at the two of them with cold, reptilian eyes. The mortal was still standing in the same place under the beast's glare, though now she faced the commotion with one hand on the hilt of her sword.

Serana felt a stab of panic as she watched the dragon's jaw unhinge. She was really hoping that this dragon was not a fire-breathing one. " _Yol.._ "

_Fire._

It was a split-second decision the vampire acted upon, one that had her tackling the mortal to the ground.

" _Toor Shul!_ "

The startled woman complained with a breathless  _oof!_ , the both of them flying off the cobblestone road and into the cool drift lining its banks. Moments later, blinding white-hot light lit the space they had once stood, the jet of deadly flames contouring every terrifying detail of the winged beast.

Trembling like a leaf due to the adrenaline of the situation, Serana stole a downward glance that revealed the mortal beneath her, entire upper body buried in the snow. The vampire was completely sprawled on top of her, pinning her to the frozen ground.

Perhaps she'd been a little too forceful... and while their position was certainly compromising, she had saved them both from being reduced to a pile of ash.

With her knees on either side of the mortal's hips, Serana quickly plunged her hands into the frigid drift, grabbing her shoulders to tug her to freedom.

The woman surfaced with a strangled gasp in Dunmeri that was most likely a curse, sinking her hands back into the snow bank to slip out from underneath the vampire and regain her footing.

Serana was less startled by the outburst and proximity of the mortal and more stricken by the absence of the woman's helmet. It must have been knocked loose by the impact and stuck in the snow.

The woman did not seem to recognize the loss of her head wear, the faint tinkling of jewelry coming from her as she whirled around to face the Volkihar vampire.

Desperately, Serana's mind worked in overdrive to absorb every detail of her uncovered face before the dragon fell upon them again.

Now, the words Serana was expecting to have been able to describe the woman at their first meeting were not very positive. Her thoughts went along with the more.. biased adjectives at the time, and for whatever reason, the vampire was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that her traitorous conscious instantly labeled this irritating  _mortal_  with the compliment of beautiful.

Her hair was as velvety and black as the night, cut just past her chin much like Serana's. Her face, which the vampire had been predicting to be marred by at least one or two scars, held a sort of youthful glow. The sharpness of her features were shown in her cheekbones, but softened at the same time by something else; she couldn't have been much older than Serana when.. _it_  happened.

The most captivating of her features, however, were her eyes and ears.

The woman's ears were slightly pointed, like an elf's, but not quite, and from each one dangled a metal diamond-shaped earring that swung with every movement. Her eyes.. well, they were stunning to say the least.

Warm amber, smoldering with the fiercest of internal fires, piercing Serana like a wooden stake straight through her chest. Serana felt as if she could burst into flames underneath the gaze of those eyes, they were so  _intense_.

Serana was effectively pulled out of her daze by the source of her fascination, a furious glint igniting the mortal's already harsh eyes as she advanced on the vampire.

"Dammit, you fool, don't just stand there!" The woman barked, her gauntlet covered hand reaching out to wrap around Serana's wrist. The female vampire was lurched forward on her feet, allowing herself to be drug off into what cover of the trees, the very flammable trees, could provide.

The mortal released her hold and was crouching, steadying herself with one palm sinking into the blanket of snow beneath them; the other held her ebony blade, though her sword arm was shuddering. Serana sunk further into the shadows of the forest, chills erupting down her already icy skin when the dragon released a shuddering roar overhead.

Words unrecognizable to the vampire came from the mortal's lips, Dunmeri, before she bit out something understandable.

"A  _dragon_. A dragon shows up now of all times?" The woman beside her hissed, more emotion than Serana had ever witnessed from her expressed in those words. She continued to mutter obscenities under her breath and brush snow from her person while Serana simply took in her features again.

She was undeniably cute, especially so when flustered as she was. Serana wanted to slap herself the second the thought passed through her brain. _Gah_ , why was she letting herself become so flustered over this simple mortal woman? Serana was not even all that attracted to women in the first place!

At the moment her mortal companion was rummaging around the inside of her bag, flinching when an ominous rush of air swept over them. The dragon was making rounds overhead with an occasional, mocking roar. Serana hadn't moved at all, eyes still glued to the woman rather than the beast tearing through the skies.

The mortal had dug a green potion bottle from her bag, tearing off the cork and tilting it back to down its contents.

A stamina potion. Serana opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it and remained silent. The mortal was obviously running low on energy if she had to rely on potions. If the vampire commented on this, it would probably only cause more trouble than it was worth.

Serana watched the irate woman stand, readjusting her grip on the handle of her sword.

"You really intend to fight it?" The vampire asked dubiously. Her designated escort would not last long if the damned thing kept throwing herself at killer beasts left and right.

It earned her a terse, blank look from the mortal, and it was then that Serana noticed a tiny mole hardly visible beneath her left eye.  _Well, that's another feature added to the list. I wonder if she's hiding any wings, or maybe some sort of imp tail._ The vampire scoffed to herself, trying not to roll her eyes.

"I've fought dragons before,"

Serana quirked a brow. Dragons were not supposed to be fought, because they  _were_  supposed to be extinct. What kind of world had she woken to? She wanted ask the woman was age it was, but now was not the time, and truthfully, she felt her conscious would be a lot more at ease without that knowledge.

The mortal's earrings swayed when she looked skyward, eyes tracking the huge silhouette cutting into the night overhead, bellowing out another roar. "...Are you done staring now, vampire?"

Serana's response was a small chuckle, unable to contain the shameless smirk turning the corners of her lips.  _It's not my fault you're so interesting to look at._

The dragon made another swoop, rattling the pines with a mighty tidal wave of wind. The mortal seemed to sway a little, finally deciding to grace the vampire with a look, one of utter distaste.

Serana kept smiling, but as soon as the woman's eyes had left her, she let it fall. Damn. She really was becoming a little smitten with this mortal already, much to her own discontent.

"Just stay out of sight." The woman ordered in a dry voice, hopping back onto the cobblestone road, sword raised and ready. Her abundance of courage was beginning to look more like a death wish to Serana.

Despite her concern, the vampire didn't move a muscle. "You're  _really_  going to-"

Serana's voice died in her throat at the approach of the dragon; it glided down with an enormous racket that nearly overwhelmed its own words.

" _Yol Toor Shul!_ "

The mortal rolled out of the path of flames, spitting a curse while the dragon blurred by overhead. It sailed upward, taking to the skies and out of reach of any sword, or arrow for that matter.

Regaining her footing, the woman's frown grew frostier. "Get down here and fight me, you overgrown lizard!" She challenged the retreating dragon, blade raised over her head and other hand curled into a fist.

Even in such a perilous situation Serana couldn't help but be amused by the usually emotionless mortal acting so animatedly and furious. She liked her much better in this state.

The dragon answered her call, mouth wide, a brilliant spark igniting in the back of its maw.

_"Joor Zah Frul!"_

_What?_  Serana felt whatever smirk she did have on her lips drop the second the unfamiliar words sunk into her brain. It was a Shout! A Shout that had come from the woman, not the dragon! It was unimaginable, her voice was so powerful, more powerful than a Dragon, or this particular one it seemed.

A mortal, who could harness the power of dragons... That sounded familiar.

The dragon belted out a clamorous screech, an unnatural blue light snaking around its scaled body. It appeared paralyzed midair, plummeting fast. The woman followed its downward spiral until it met the earth, spraying slush and chunks of permafrost in its wake.

She was on it in an instant, ducking beneath a swipe of its tail and dodging the snapping of its jaws that closed with loud pops.

 _Dragonborn. Dovahkiin._  Yes, the pieces of this crux of a woman were coming together at last.

"That's.. why she could recite the passage from that word wall so easily.." Serana whispered to herself, watchful of the battle, though her mind was elsewhere.

This revelation was mind-blowing. This must be the reason why her blood smelled so incredible, she was a dragon trapped in the feeble body of a human. Serana had to fight herself from actively drooling over this.  _Just imagine.._  that pitiful deer would hardly hold a candle to such a specimen as she was.

The weakened dragon, still burdened by the blue light, stumbled over its own feet and toppled heavily onto its side in the snow. The mortal had slashed numerous cuts into its hide, smearing its naturally green scales with red. Muzzle stained with its own blood, the dragon weakly tried to face its attacker, though it had hardly opened its mouth before her blade created a fresh slash sideways over its face.

With a deep growl, the dragon's neck curled up, mouth slightly agape and blood slithering down into the crook of its jaw. It leaned heavily into its right side, tail throwing a tide of slush as it swung it closer to wrap protectively against its massive legs.

The mortal nimbly back stepped several paces out of the way, skillfully twirling her blade by its hilt in her hand. Serana could only imagine she wore a devilish smirk from her vantage point in the now snow-drenched bushes, expecting her approaching victory.

" _Hi los mul, Dovahkiin!_ " The vampire listened in intrigue as the Dragon spoke in his exotic tongue, seemingly expecting the woman to be able to understand. The mortal stopped her taunting, a sign that yes, amazingly, she did. The blue glow whirling around the dragon's body had vanished.

" _Nuz zu'u fen ni saan!_ " The dragon roared thunderously, its giant leathery wings stretching outward. It was preparing to take off again.

" _Hi los nalkun dilon!_ " The mortal declared just as fiercely, lunging, the point of her ebony blade facing forward.

Caught up in the heat of the battle, it would take Serana hours to realize that the mortal had been speaking Dragon Tongue as fluently as the ancient beast she was battling did.

Pushing from the snow with a flurry of the frost clinging to her legs, the Dragonborn leaped, plunging her sword directly into the thin pale green webbing of the dragon's spread wing. The sound of ripping flesh that followed her weapon down through the beast's skin was enough to have even Serana cringing.

The dragon shared the vampire's sentiment, the very air feeling as if it vibrated with its cry of pain. Once again, the mortal ducked backward, beneath the swipe of its injured appendage as the beast folded both wings back to its body.

 _Clever, clever, mortal._  Serana inwardly praised from her hiding place. The dragon could no longer fly away with a useless, bleeding wing.

The vampire heard the mortal mutter something Dunmeri once more in an amusingly vexed tone, dashing straight for the now downed dragon. She clambered up its hind leg, tucked under its belly where it had collapsed into the powdery drift when it lost the strength to stand properly. The dragon retaliated feebly, snapping its jaws at the woman now making her way down its spine-covered back.

As the dragon bent its neck around to bite at the mortal, she dove directly for its head, her free hand grasping onto one of its thick curved horns.

The legendary beast bucked beneath his unwanted passenger, though it did little to stop the Dragonborn whose sword was already driven handle-deep into the space directly between its eyes, breaking through the hard layer of green scales with a crunch.

Serana rose from her kneeling position, stepping back into the open to move toward the fallen beast and its slayer.

The Dragonborn had stuck to the creature's head when its entire body went limp, crashing into the snow with a muffled thump. The woman slid feet-first to the snow from the dead dragon's spined forehead, thrusting her midnight blade down into the frozen earth with a crunch. She cradled its leather-bound hilt, using it as a make-shift support.

Serana was about to speak, to either confirm or denounce her suspicions when the massive carcass behind the woman became bathed a golden light.

"Bloody hell.." The Dragonborn was whispering heatedly completely to herself, still hunched over her weapon despite the rush of light surrounding her. Serana watched in awe as dragon's bloodstained hide appeared to be burning away, disintegrating in flakes and melting into the brilliant glow that was swirling around the oblivious woman.

The mortal had stilled now, eyes closed, though still propped against the sword. When the gleam became too intense for her light-sensitive eyes to bear, Serana squeezed them shut to let the harshness of it burn her closed lids instead.

A tired exhale shuddered from the Dragonborn's chest just as the glow died away, so Serana opened her eyes to a bare skeleton, the dragon's skeleton, entirely clean and a pearly white.

A faint outline of gold still shimmered around the Dragonborn's slumped form, though it faded quickly.

"Ugh," The mortal groused afterward, one hand still clutched lamely on her trusty blade's handle. Her other had lifted to cradle her forehead; though she soon let it fall away as Serana came near.

Serana's red eyes met with the mortal's equally fiery ones. It was a new experience, being able to see the emotions crossing her face for once, even if this time she was undoubtedly irritated and looking utterly spent.

"Stop looking at me like that, like I'm some sort of si-" Her stone-faced façade was thrown to the wind with the loss her helmet it seemed, though her scalding words were interrupted by a distant shout.

"Dragonborn!" Serana's head snapped in the direction of the male voice.

A man who she could only assume was a Pale guard was jogging down the road, a posse of similarly outfitted men hot on his heels. Their identities were hidden by helmets, though several of them were noticeably more harrowed-looking than others, showing off smoldering armor and the angry red burns beneath.

She looked to the woman in question, only to find that the spot beside the dragon's skull was empty, aside from the ebony blade protruding from the frostbitten earth.

Serana found her Dragonborn crouched by the snowdrift she had thrown her into earlier, scrambling to retrieve something within it before the men got close enough to fully make out her features.

Just as the noisy group reached the two of them, she yanked her helmet free, cramming it carelessly over her head. Serana winced, hearing what was possibly the mortal's earrings scraping against its inside. The woman hurriedly rose to greet the leader of the pack, his face covered by a helm as well, but voice full of life and far too loud.

"Dragonborn," He breathed, seizing one of her hands. She allowed it to be clasped between his chain mail gauntlets without complaint, her detached demeanor making a not-so-welcome reappearance, in Serana's opinion, anyway. "Dawnstar is in your debt Dragonborn. The dragon came out of nowhere from the mountains, giving us hell as soon as it arrived. The city is a little scorched, but it's under control now that the damn monster is too dead to spew anymore fire."

"It was no trouble, really." The woman replied, having reigned in the annoyance she'd turned on Serana only seconds before.

His expression was not available, but the man's voice was practically quivering with gratitude. "You have done Dawnstar a great deed, I.. we thank you." His grip tightened briefly around the woman's hand.

Serana was feeling an unconventional urge to rip the mortal man away to prevent his touch from lingering any longer. Why? She was not quite sure. "If there is anything the people of Dawnstar can do in return, please, just name it."

If she was feeling discomfort, it did not show as the woman's helmet turned toward what remained of the dragon. Serana looked as well, unaware that she was pouting like a petulant child.

The rest of the group had gathered around the skeleton, prodding at it timidly, their clutter of voices subdued with excitement.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like some rooms for myself and my companion for the night." The Dragonborn replied at last, facing the man again.

His helmet nodded vigorously. "Y-yes! Of course, Dragonborn." To Serana's relief the guard finally released his hold on the silent woman's hand. "And.. ah, what do you intend to do with the remains?"

"The people of Dawnstar may do to it what they wish. I have no use for it." Serana was beginning to miss the feeling her Dragonborn's voice had possessed during the fight; she sounded hopelessly empty now.

_Why does she feel the need to put on such an act for these people?_

The man stuttered fretfully over his response. "Ar-are you certain.. Dragonborn? At least let us pay you something for your services, gold, jewels.. you have done so much for Skyrim.."

 _What? So much for Skyrim?_  Serana's gaze hardened on the woman, this enigmatic mortal was becoming more and more interesting by the hour. The vampire was going to enjoy piecing this puzzle together.

The Dragonborn lifted a hand, silencing him at once. "That won't be necessary, just the rooms will do."

The guard's head bowed. "Aye, shall we go, then?"

At her nod, the man turned, shouting to gather his scattered comrades. "We will deal with the skeleton tomorrow, for now we must return to Dawnstar and spread news that the Dragonborn has saved our city!" The men agreed heartily with whoops and cheers, converging behind their commander as he led the march toward the distant, smoking Dawnstar. The mortal woman hung back, glancing at the skeleton longingly.

"Why do they still insist on fighting..?" She murmured in that silky voice of hers, though her words were heavy, almost regretful, then with a sigh to Serana: "Let's go, vampire. We'll grab a carriage and head down the coast for Solitude tomorrow morning." With impossibly quiet steps she turned to pursue the departing group of men.

Serana hesitated before approaching the dead beast's skull where the forgotten ebony blade still stuck vertically from its place in the ice. She secured the hilt in her hands, and with a single tug, it broke free, spewing tiny chunks of frost.

Sword in hand, the vampire followed, practically burning a hole into the back of the Dragonborn's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Here's what the dragon said: "You are strong, Dragonborn!" "But I will not lose!" The Dragonborn replied: "You are already dead!"**
> 
>  
> 
> **B'vek: a non-specific interjection of surprise**


	3. Bloodlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _While exploring Dimhollow Crypt, I freed a mysterious young woman named Serana from an ancient sarcophagus. She asked me to guide her home, to a castle off the northern coast of Skyrim._

The inn was surprisingly cozy, despite how crowded it had been at their arrival, the Dawnstar natives filtering through the cramped doorway and into the far-too-small building to deliver a friendly greeting, look, or slap on the back to the Dragonborn.

It had felt like the whole damn town was inside the building, but soon enough they grew tired of their "hero's" stoicism and inept social grace and went on their ways.

The tavern regulars had lingered though, the peace Serana, and she suspected her mortal companion as well, wished for periodically interrupted by their hushed and excited chatter.

 _Dragonborn this, Dragonborn that, dragons, oh my!_  The vampire was sick of it already, left wondering how the Dragonborn dealt with such gossip on a regular basis.

Serana blocked out the murmuring as best she could, and instead granted her undivided attention to the mortal in question, whether it was wanted or not.

The woman had shed her armor, with the exception of her helmet, and sat at the main bar in the back of the inn with the vampire at her side. The Dragonborn was picking at a bowl of venison stew and occasionally sipping on a mug of mead distastefully.

Serana kept her head bowed beside her, hood pulled up, avoiding eye contact to lower the chances of the patrons discovering what she truly was. A cloak her companion had pulled from that supposingly bottomless bag of hers was slung across Serana's shoulders to conceal the Elder Scroll.

In short, she was hoping to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Thankfully, it appeared to be working.

The other occupants gave the bar a wide berth, possibly sensing the foul mood the Dragonborn was practically radiating. The vampire was in a similarly sullen spirit, inwardly cursing the presence of the mortal's helmet. She openly bore a hole into the side of it as the woman continued to mess with her food.

For whatever reason, the mortal's refusal to show her face got on Serana's nerves. She  _wanted_  to be able to look her in the eye when they spoke.

With an empty voice, not looking up, the mortal finally acknowledged her. "You're staring."

Serana was not ashamed about being caught, in fact, she was elated for finally receiving some attention.

"Why are you still wearing that helmet?" She asked bluntly. What purpose did that helmet fulfill in the middle of a city tavern?

With the same dull tone, now stirring the food absentmindedly, the mortal answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world: "To hide my identity."

The short, curt answers were starting to chip away at Serana's patience. The mortal's cryptic attitude was just as infuriating. "They call you Dragonborn. They obviously know who you are." Leaning closer, she urged on, "Why do you hide yourself?"

The mortal visibly bristled, clutching the wooden spoon in her bare hand tightly. She hesitated, and Serana was expecting her response to be vehement.

"I.. wear it... to hide my distinguishing features." She settled on at last in a meek voice.

 _Distinguishing features?_  "...Your ears? Why does that matter?"

The woman finally turned to face her.

"It's.. complicated, right?" She replied. The barb was not lost on Serana. The vampire scowled.

Using her own words against her, fine,  _mortal_ , fine.

Serana's eyes narrowed as she swallowed her frustration for the woman's lack of cooperativeness.

"Is that so?" She nearly growled, though smothered it into a deceptively kind purr when a barmaid trotted by the main counter, a tray of empty mugs balanced on one hand.

The vampire ducked her head closer to the mortal's once any other potential eavesdroppers had moved out of hearing range. "Let's make a deal. A question for a question. I'll ask a question, you answer it, you ask me a question, I'll answer it."

The woman paused again, the corner of her mouth twitching. Her other hand curled into a fist on the counter. "Deal." She reluctantly muttered in reply, now looking down at the bowl, wisps of steam curling upward from its surface.

Rocking back on her bar stool with a fleeting, smug smile, Serana primly folded her hands in her lap. "Great. Now, why do you hide yourself?"

The mortal sighed, a defeated drawn out breath.

"Apart from Skyrim being so violently racist.." The Dragonborn huffed again, and Serana could practically feel the eye-roll behind her words in her very nonexistent soul.

"I was born into slavery, somewhere up in the mountains of High Rock. I don't remember my mother. My father could've been anyone frankly... I was a liability the moment I came into this world." The vampire's cross expression softened with each word. "But Skyrim needed a hero, a Dragonborn, and by some chance of fate, that person happened to be me." The woman's dismal tone was gradually developing into something more and more bitter. "Their ideal champion was a big, muscled, courageous Nord, not a scrawny, elf-hybrid-bastard-child. So I gave them what they wanted. As far as they know I'm a Nord woman under this helmet, and that's all they need to keep worshiping the ground I walk on."

It was definitely a heavier truth than Serana had been expecting.

_Slavery? I would have never guessed.. she's so... strong. That seems impossible._

Serana had experienced.. something as degrading as being a slave must have been before, so she could sympathize. She fidgeted uncomfortably before finding the resolve to speak again. "I see... I apologize for being so rude before.."

The woman brushed off the courtesy completely and released the spoon, both hands in fists resting on the table. "It's your turn now. Why were locked away in that crypt?"

Taking a moment longer to glance dolefully at the mortal, Serana squirmed in her seat. "My mother put me there. She and my father had a falling out.."  _Over a prophecy promising to rid vampires of the sun's oppression for eternity._  Serana decided to leave that detail out. "...it ended with me being hidden in that crypt, and her most likely going on the run from his wrath."

"With an Elder Scroll." The Dragonborn added.

"With an Elder Scroll." Serana confirmed blandly.

The mortal's fingers flexed before splaying her hands palm-down on the counter. "So was it your mother you were expecting when I first discovered you?"

Serana crossed her arms, somehow finding the will to flash a weak smile. "Ah, ah," She made a tsking noise with her tongue against the back of her teeth. "You already asked your question. It's my turn again."

The mortal's hands closed into fists. "Fine. Go ahead." She retorted, voice heavy with exasperation.

This was the perfect opportunity to get some answers, and Serana was going to milk it as much as she could. "Who's Skyrim's High King?"

Serana watched the mortal shrug her lithe shoulders. With the armor gone, the woman was indeed a lot more frail-looking, and well, womanly. The menacing helmet was comically out of place combined with her simple undershirt and skirt. She had this lean, but muscular build, and the way she carried herself sent the message that she was not one to be trifled with.

"That's actually a matter for debate."

"Oh, goody," The vampire puffed, though her curiosity was spurred. "A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?"

"You're breaking your own rules, vampire." The mortal replied, making Serana drift back into her own space with a grimace. "I'll let it slide since you seem so desperate for knowledge. The Empire supports Elisif, but most of Skyrim are loyal to Ulfric."

 _How kind of you._  Serana refrained from voicing this, attempting to school her features back into an impassive mask.  _Empire? Elisif? Ulfric?_  It was a losing battle, her lips pursed with doubt.

"Empire..? What.. what empire?" The bewildered vampire asked, well aware of how badly she was cheating her own game.

"The Empire, from Cyrodiil." The Dragonborn retorted, to Serana's relief apparently brushing off the agreed rule entirely.

 _Forget the deal, what the hell? How long was I gone?!_  Serana felt her heart coming to life, adrenaline fueling its increasingly rapid thumps in her chest.

"What? Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire? I must have been gone longer than I thought.."  _Definitely longer than planned... I need to get home already so I can figure out what the hell's happened..._

"How long  _were_  you in there?" The Dragonborn questioned in her detached voice that betrayed a sliver of... concern? Serana's worried gaze fell on the mortal next to her. It felt more like holding a conversation with a statue than a genuine woman. The vampire half suspected that under the helmet her eyes were closed.

Regardless, the vampire shook her head lightly. "It's hard to say. I can't really tell; it feels like it was a long time."

"Hmm." Was the mortal's reply. "Wow, you're more ancient than most ruins around here, aren't you?"

Serana blinked, once, twice, trying to convince herself that the tiny smile quirking on the edge of the woman's mouth was indeed real.

For whatever odd reason, the sight warmed her from head to toe. Maybe it was the fact that the Dragonborn was starting to appear more like a kicked puppy than a legendary dragon slayer after that tear-jerking confession over her past.

Serana returned the short-lived look with a gentle smile of her own despite the mortal's averted attention. "I suppose I am."

At last, the mortal faced her, the curve of her lips smoothing away as quickly as it had come much to the vampire's chagrin.

"I'll be heading in for the night." She stated, pushing the stool backward and standing with both hands still planted on the bar. She stepped away to head for a door directly to her left.

Serana leaned forward, propping herself up with her crossed arms on the bar.

"Pleasant dreams." The vampire called after her.

The mortal simply hummed in response, closing the door behind her with a heavy click.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Serana slumped into the counter, letting her head bang onto its surface with a thump.

* * *

Morning came quickly, though not quickly enough for the restless vampire. She'd always preferred a bed to a coffin, much to her father's confusion, but it was impossible to even get a wink of rest with that mortal  _so_ damn close.

The wooden wall separating their rooms might as well have been paper for all the good it was doing; every heartbeat, every breath had Serana on full alert throughout the night. She was _so_  close. It would have been  _so_  easy to slip into that room unnoticed and finally savor what she had been craving since she'd first laid eyes upon that clueless mortal.

Serana had fallen into a routine of firmly reminding herself just why she could not do such a thing, and whining inwardly about said reason as each hour passed. She had tried to let the mortal's breathing lull her into sleep, but however calming it was, Serana could not shut her wired mind off to save her life.

She laid awake, red eyes to the ceiling, mind drifting from the mortal to her family, her mother most of all, and her home.

When the mortal's heartbeat had suddenly jumped, hammering in the vampire's eardrums, she shot upright on the edge of the bed.

_A nightmare?_

The rest of the night was spent listening as the mortal gradually faded back into unconsciousness. She was  _so_  close.

When reddish light had finally started shining through the tiny, fogged window overhead, Serana had waited with bated breath for any sign of movement from the other room. When the mortal's steady breathing had hitched, Serana was already at the door.

They exited the tavern, Serana clutching the cloak securely around herself and trying to only look downward, and the now-armored woman stealing subtle yawns into the palm of her hand. The Jarl himself made an appearance to see them off, showering the Dragonborn with a long-winded string of hollow praise before the two of them climbed into the back of their awaiting carriage.

Their carriage driver was just as irritating, a spindly, stuttering young man who would only be useful for catching stray arrows with his chest should they happen to run into bandits along the way.

He sputtered on nervously, going on about boring tales, useless chatter, and poorly veiled complements; though to Serana's displeasure the woman  _humored_  him. With gentle words and a soft smile she got engaged with his fruitless talk and bogus stories of heroism, probably just to spite the vampire into keeping to herself.

Serana could hardly get a word in edgewise between the carriage driver and the woman's encouragements, though she was content to finally see a smile on that normally frowning mouth.

The vampire was on the verge of reaching over the backboard of the man's seat and snapping his neck to put a stop to their blathering when the harshness of the sun began letting up.

Serana lifted her gaze past the rim of her hood, watching as the sky melted into reds, oranges, and pinks until thawing into a star-filled sky. Not long afterward, the carriage jerked to a stop, and she focused on the voices she had been purposely ignoring for the duration of the trip.

"The roads won't.. be as safe in the dark… we should…stop for the night and make camp here." The carriage driver suggested.

"Yes, of course, Froki." Was the Dragonborn's curt reply, the benign smile replaced by that tight-lipped look.

Eager to stretch her legs and have some silence away from the two mortals, Serana slipped from the carriage to the ground and just began walking.

She walked, enjoying the scenery, the fresh air, before retracing her steps after some time had passed back to her travelling companions. Well, her one companion. The other was just dead weight.

A fire had been kindled, lighting Froki's back where he laid facing away from the flames. The single chestnut colored horse stood tied to a nearby tree, sifting past the snow to the frostbitten grass beneath. The Dragonborn sat on the opposite side of the fire from the Nord boy, legs crossed, and her helmet in her lap.

Now _this_ made up for all those hours of suffering.

The vampire was instantly smiling at the sight. So, she wouldn't have to pester the mortal into removing it after all.

Serana approached the campfire, unclasping the given cloak from around her shoulders and folding it neatly; placing it beside her once she had settled on the ground between the carriage driver and her escort. Froki was sound asleep. She faced the mortal woman expectantly.

There was something she had been meaning to ask for a while on her mind.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the Dragonborn back at Dimhollow Crypt?"

Serana watched the mortal's eyes narrow, a crease forming between her brows. Those eyes were bewitching. Serana wondered if the mortal knew just what she could do with those eyes, eyes that could probably frost over a flame with a single glare or sear a hole through a sheet of ice. "It wasn't important at the time."

"Really? You thought being a mythical dragon-slayer wasn't important?" Serana scoffed, leaning herself backward with her palms pressed to ground.

There it was; a fire in those eyes. The look the mortal directed at the vampire would kill if it could. "I'm not  _just_ the Dragonborn." It seemed Serana had struck a nerve. The mortal's voice grew low with cool, bottled fury.

"You think I wanted…" The woman gestured to herself, sucking in a sharp breath. Serana held her tongue between her teeth. ".. _this_? When people see me, they see the Dragonborn, not me. I must hide my true self just to keep this image high in their hopes. I'm sick of people only wanting me for my skill, my services," The withering glare she had the vampire under would've paralyzed any lesser woman. "..or your case, my blood."

The mortal was a lot more perceptive than the vampire had given her credit for; she'd hit the nail right on the head.

"That's.. not.. entirely true," Serana was finding it difficult to maintain eye contact, those eyes felt as if they saw right through her and her lies. She might even admit she was slightly intimidated. "I truly am grateful that you freed me, I don't want to hurt you."

That last bit was some bit of truth; this mortal was surprisingly a lot more suffer-able than most. It would be a shame to have to kill her.

Ugh, really? Who was Serana kidding? This woman could probably overtake her easier than she would have liked to admit. Serana had watched her defeated a  _Dragon_ , for Gods sake...

"But you  _do_  want my blood." The woman retorted hotly, though immediately she shut her eyes, mouth slightly open to draw in another breath. Her rising heartbeat was slowing.

Serana was still reeling over how she'd gotten the mortal so riled up with one simple question.

Said mortal stole a glance at Froki's still, sleeping form, after several deep and calming breaths, perhaps worrying her little tangent had woken him. He was out like a light, producing a soft snore as he slept. She faced Serana again, the anger that had lit her eyes like embers gone, replaced by a tired glare.

"I apologize.. for that little.." The woman sighed, sitting up straight as if struck with a sudden burst of energy. "So, tell me about your home."

The vampire gave the Dragonborn a bewildered look over the curling flames of their little campfire. "It's on an island near Solitude. We'll have to get a boat to get there." Serana replied in a subdued tone, eyeing the still-scowling mortal with caution.

The vampire received a small nod from her companion, a silent urge to continue.

"It's been my family's home for centuries," Not a lie.. but the real truth would be a bit alarming to some. "It may not be the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there."

"Why wouldn't you be safe there? Someone you don't want to see waiting for you?" The mortal replied, though it was heavy and disinterested. She'd seemed very drained since leaving Dimhollow Crypt; Serana would be lying to herself if she denied feeling any kind of concern for the mortal. She was going to run herself into the ground if she kept on like this, and it wasn't as if she could relax, she was in the company of a  _vampire_  after all.

 _Are you alright?_  Was what she wished to ask, though Serana held her tongue, planning out an appropriate response to the mortal's question instead. "I'm not in any danger or anything; it will just be more unpleasant to run into my father. He's..." Serana let her eyes wander the dark surroundings, blinking slowly, the weight of the Elder Scroll growing heavier as thoughts of Harkon resurfaced in her foggy mind. _A godsdamned psychopath..._ "Eccentric."

"Eccentric, huh?" The Dragonborn sighed, the rustling of leather and metal causing Serana to return her gaze to the exhausted mortal. She had started taking off her armor, in the process of setting her cuirass down on the icy ground when red eyes fell upon her. "And this father of yours..." Her left hand clasped around her right wrist, small straps dangling from her right arm, and slipped the gauntlet off. "A vampire, I'm assuming?"

The vampire observed the clock-work like process as the mortal spoke, a peculiar feeling overcoming her at the display of vulnerability. There had to be some shred trust between them if the mortal was willing to spend the night near a vampire without the added protection of her armor. The lone dagger strapped to the woman's thigh did not go unnoticed either.

Jerking slightly as the mortal's questions registered, Serana quickly averted her roaming gaze to look the Dragonborn in her currently expressionless face.

"You assume correctly." The vampire answered, a twinge of worry seizing her. Was her companion finally grasping the situation she so readily agreed to walk right into?

The final shoulder guard had been removed. "I see." The woman slipped the rounded piece of metal into her black-hole of a travel bag alongside the other assorted pieces of her armor, finally lifting her head to lock eyes with the anxious vampire. Serana was taken aback by the furious conviction she was met with; those amber eyes were truly a window into the Dragonborn's soul.

The mortal was willing to waltz into a nest of vampires, simply because she had agreed to return Serana to her family. She was either incredibly brave, incredibly stupid, or perhaps a generous mixture of both.

"And you're.. okay.. with that?" Serana voiced quietly; the mixture of emotions going through her was painful. She felt.. guilty.. why did she feel guilty?

It was just.. How could she continue thinking of the Dragonborn like prey when she acted like this, all heroic and selfless, with that strange charm to her sarcastic and morose attitude?

"I said I'd take you to your home, Serana, and that's what I'm going to do." Her escort reminded firmly, transferring her helmet from her lap to the ground where she had laid her bag.

Once again, the ancient vampire was rendered speechless, disarmed by the sincere words reaching her ears through that lovely voice. Serana didn't even know her name, and yet, this stranger was willing to stare death in the face just to help a vampire lusting after her own blood.

"I.. uh.." The Volikhar vampire stuttered, the silver tongue that had talked her out of countless troubles brought to a stand still by a ridiculously devoted mortal elf-woman. "Uh, thank you."  _Dammit!_  The vampire screwed her eyes shut, frustration welling.

This woman was driving her mad, as if her parents' constant bickering and explosive relationship hadn't already forced her to such a state.

She opened them, refusing to acknowledge the wetness clouding the edges of her vision.

When was the last time she was treated like a living being instead of a pawn, a means to an end? And here this mortal was, this woman she had met scarcely a day ago, who cared, even if she did so begrudgingly. She may have been putting on a great deal of different faces, but the intentions beneath them were sincere, Serana felt.

Serana was starting to believe that these "acts" were maybe a coping mechanism for this mortal, somehow...

"Now, now, don't go getting all sappy on me," The Dragonborn warned half-halfheartedly, her palm raised as if she were about to reach out to the vampire. It wavered in the space between them from across the crackling fire, before the mortal let it fall back into her lap. Something akin to kindness was softening her usual frown.

Serana smiled as best she could. "I'd really like to know your name."

Her escort smiled as well, a hardly noticeable twitch in the corner of her mouth. And she told her.

The Dragonborn was not prey. The Dragonborn was not a "pet". The Dragonborn was not quite a friend, but she was something... Something special.


	4. Castle Volkihar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This land feels... twisted. I'm surprised my father didn't want to live out here." - Serana_

Lord Harkon of Volkihar Castle stalked down the many winding halls of his keep, striding with an air of authority accomplished from a lifetime of ruling.

The path he took through the maze of hallways and rooms was one well known to him, light becoming scarce and the abundance of cobwebs and dust increasing the further the Vampire Lord ventured into the massive keep.

At last he rounded a corner, the left end of the hallway blocked off by a relatively new set of bricks where the pathway to Valerica's garden once was. Straight ahead stood a single ornate door, the only part of the shadowed hallway not swamped in spider threads or grime. Harkon had ordered it, as well as the room within, to be kept clean.

The Vampire Lord approached the door, a calloused hand gripping the handle. He pushed it downward, gears and tumblers turning with a click. Harkon took a step forward, the small door swinging inward with his large body.

He stepped into the room, his daughter's room, empty for so long that her scent no longer lingered.

The vampire went further, boots sinking into the threadbare rug at the center of the darkened chamber to face the painting on the far wall, as he always did.

It was a family portrait. His own image on the right, standing tall over his daughter, a hand resting on her shoulder, and the left... torn, torn down the rim of the canvas. His treacherous wife's image was ripped away; he couldn't stand looking into those traitorous eyes, even in the form of paint.

Harkon's fists clenched, a finger on his left hand feeling strangely naked.

Red eyes hesitated on the likeness of Serana for several long moments, before surveying the rest of the room for any piece of furniture that required a servant's attention.

A grand bookshelf covered the entire right wall, lined with ancient tomes caked by dust. The Vampire Lord didn't bother with his long-lost daughter's absurd collection of books, it wasn't as if she were here to read them and complain about their conditions.

It had become a sort of tradition; every few decades or so the Vampire Lord visited the deserted quarters. He wasn't sure when it had started, and he wasn't sure if the day would come when he would stop.

Harkon was certain several members of his court saw it as a sign of weakness, a father mourning his lost child; the Vampire Lord simply waited for the day any of them dared to mention it, so he could cut them down where they stood and put an end to his underlings' doubtful murmurings.

Light footsteps were suddenly pounding rapidly down the hallway in his keen ears.

Harkon remained with his back turned to the ajar door, tracking the sound as it became closer and closer. This better be important, or the "don't shoot the messenger" policy wouldn't be applying.

Harkon turned around at last when a lanky figure appeared from the darkness, the runt Ronthil, out of breath and shivering like a leaf.

"My Lord!" The whelp gasped, quickly falling to his knees, head close enough to the floor to practically kiss it. "Lady Serana has returned!"

The words stirred something in his unbeating heart in a way he had not felt for quite some time, though the Vampire Lord masked the fluttering feeling behind a menacing scowl that had Ronthil visibly quivering in fear.

Without a word to the sniveling runt, Harkon rushed to the main hall with as much dignity as possible.

* * *

The soothing lull of the ocean lapping against the shore and the faint scent of salt were in the air. An occasional squawk came from above as sea-shore birds glided by, the quiet of the trip filled by the clicking of the horse's hooves against the cobblestone road and the Dragonborn's stable heartbeat.

Serana lounged in the back of the carriage, her entire body stretched across the right bench, covered from nearly head to tone by the cloak she had been given. The sun bore down upon her sprawled out form, sinking into her bones, now heavy with fatigue. The bed of the carriage was empty aside from the dozing vampire.

The Dragonborn sat in the driver's seat of the cart, the lone horse's reins in her hands. Her expression was grim.

A member of their travelling party was missing, a development Serana was callously content with.

* * *

It had been nearly a week ago when the trio's carriage had passed under a suspiciously empty, flimsy wood-and-rope bridge built over the road.

Their designated driver, the stuttering Nord Froki, was more jittery than usual, hands clenching the reins so tightly his knuckles were white. Serana hardly cared of the man's worries, so the vampire brushed it off as nothing more than a little paranoia.

The Nord had a justified reason for his worry, however. Not long after the bridge cast a shadow over them did an arrow whistle out from the brush and impale itself in the boy's chest. He was gone almost instantly, the arrowhead having pierced his feeble little heart. He slumped sideways, and the startled horse grunted, bringing the carriage to an unsteady stop.

The Dragonborn and Volkihar vampire were on alert in an instant as bandits flooded from their hiding places in the trees to surround the now driver-less carriage.

The mortal woman was furious, unnaturally so over someone so unimportant, in the vampire's opinion anyway.

Serana merely watched as the Dragonborn unleashed her wrath upon the highwaymen, slashing, stabbing, decapitating, even gathering an intense ball of fire between her hands to scorch a bandit until what remained of him was a charred pile of bones. She was like a force of nature, tearing through them like a hurricane.

Once it was over, the road and surrounding area looking like a battle field with dead men and women left and right, the mortal returned to the carriage with a somber look on her face.

Serana felt absolutely nothing when the Dragonborn bowed her head toward the Nord's corpse, delivering a silent prayer upon him before heaving his body from the seat of the carriage into her arms. The vampire watched curiously as the woman laid him flat on a clear patch of ground, then skeptically when she retrieved a shovel from the side of the cart.

When the blade of the shovel was plunged into the earth beside the dead boy's body, the vampire understood what her escort was doing.

She may not have cared at all for the Nord, but she wasn't going to let the Dragonborn dig him a resting place alone.

Together vampire and mortal carved a human-sized hole into the forest floor, lowered the corpse into it, and covered him until it felt as if every trace of his existence had been wiped from the world.

They climbed back into the carriage, short one passenger, and continued the trip to Solitude.

* * *

Dusk was approaching at last when the dazed vampire felt the carriage stop.

A hand nudged her left leg, which she had propped against the backboard of the driver's chair. "Hey vampire, is this the place?" The Dragonborn's voice sounded somewhere above her.

Serana probably replied with something very eloquent, like: "Uuugh" while reaching with her hand to grip the edge of the carriage.

She used the other to push back the hood of her cloak, instantly wincing as the fading sunlight greeted her. The sky was a gloomy grey, the west a melting pot of reds and oranges. The glowing orb of hate was slowly, ever so slowly disappearing over the treeline.

"Come _on_ ," Serana flinched when a pair of fingers were snapped directly in front of her nose. It thundered in her ears, the headache that accursed sunlight had caused spiking. "Is this where we need to be? You haven't exactly been the best navigator through this, you know?"

As the night approached, Serana's energy returned, enough energy to shoot a petty glare at the mortal who dared to be so loud. The woman sat across from her, leaning back with both hands raised in mock surrender when the ill-tempered vampire answered her with the look.

The Dragonborn was silent while Serana scanned the vaguely familiar area.

The snow-covered road had come to an end, ahead was wilderness as far as the eye could see, a distant frost-covered bandit fortress on their left, and the freezing ocean on their right. Serana spotted a barely intact, nearly drowned dock on the coastline, a single, hopefully functioning boat bobbing in the waves.

 _Yes, yes, this might be it!_ Excitement overpowering weariness the sun had caused her, Serana hauled her body upright to sit properly, gripping the rail of the cart to look out to sea. Just barely she could detect the island, her home, Castle Volkihar. The further out into the water, the foggier it became. An enchantment her father had cast, Serana suspected, to keep mortal attention off of the isolated castle.

The vampire turned back to the Dragonborn. "Yes, this is it. We can use that boat," She gestured to pitiful-looking dock; it didn't look very used, or usable. "Hopefully."

"Alright then." The mortal slipped to the ground from the bed of the carriage, circling around to the front to approach the horse. Serana stopped herself at the edge, allowing her legs to dangle and regain their feeling. She heard leather being shuffled, metal clinking.

Serana eased herself to the ground, muscles complaining, though the soreness dwindled with the retreating sunlight. She padded around the side of the carriage to see what her companion was doing with the creature.

The Dragonborn dropped the animal's harness into the snow unceremoniously, a pile of scattered straps and a bridle at her feet. The horse was completely free of the carriage he had been hauling the past couple of weeks.

The woman rubbed his forehead, her free hand gliding down the length of the animal's muscular neck and smoothing his coat along the way.

Serana observed, slightly amused at the sight. "What are you doing?"

The Dragonborn glanced over her shoulder, expression blank, but an affectionate tone to her voice. "I'm setting him free. I think he's deserved a little break. Perhaps he'll even find his way back to the Dawnstar stable in one piece."

She took a step back from the animal, and promptly smacked him across the backside.

With a squeal the horse shot forward, kicking up snow until he was nothing more than a brown speck disappearing between the fir trees.

Abandoning the carriage, they approached the crumbling dock, wet boards squeaking beneath every step. The vampire and mortal climbed into the lone boat, the Dragonborn on the far end, oars already in hand. Serana set them off into the churning black water with a shove against the nearest ice-covered pillar.

Serana took hold of her own set of oars, falling into a wordless rhythm with the mortal.

The silence between the two of them was nothing unusual; Serana naturally enjoyed peace and quiet, and the Dragonborn wasn't much of a talker, but with each stroke closer to Volkihar Castle the vampire felt her chest growing tighter and tighter.

 _Why am I so fidgety? I'm going home, I should be overjoyed..._ Distressed red eyes peered past the woman's head, searching the swirling layers of fog concealing the island. The Elder Scroll was a heavy weight on her back. She needed something else to occupy her mind.

"So. Your family lives on an island in the middle of scenic nowhere, interesting place to stay for centuries, was it?" The Dragonborn's voice startled the vampire; she jumped slightly, the icy handles of her oars almost slipping from her hands. This was something, the woman was rarely one to initiate conversation.

Serana tried focusing on the Dragonborn instead of the island drawing near behind her.

"Oh, yes, we... we like our privacy... Where is your family from?"

_Ah, Serana, you idiot-_

But she caught her mistake a little too late, the foolish words had already left her mouth. Quickly, she stumbled over an apology. "Oh, oh, I'm sorry, you..."

If she was offended, as she often did, the Dragonborn betrayed nothing, interrupting the vampire with a brief shake of her head. "I never knew my birth family, but I _did_ have one, vampire. You've nothing to apologize about; I was adopted by the current Archmage of High Rock's family when I was a girl."

High Rock.. that really didn't explain her seemingly habitual use of Dunmeri, the Dragonborn often got her words mixed up with the elven language when she became flustered or angered. Raised by Dumner, then? Serana would have to ask sometime. "Oh, I see. How in the world did that happen?"

"I got into a fistfight with their daughter." The mortal woman replied with a straight face.

Serana's rowing jerked to a stop, the oars tugging against the current in her grip. "What?"

The Dragonborn only shrugged at first, her rowing kept at a steady rhythm. The vampire quickly resumed her own work, though her mouth was still open in shock.

"Um.. when I was enslaved they had us working in these mines. There was a raid by bandits on it, and during the chaos I managed to slip away. I had no idea where I was, but I wandered for a while and finally came across this pretty impressive stable. It was too dark for me to be able to see the massive castle that it belonged to.

I went inside, intent on hiding with the horses for the night, but it was just my luck that the oldest daugther of the estate happened to have the same idea: running away from her governess and her lessons. Obviously, she accused me of being a trespasser, and we were eight year old brats so things got heated pretty quickly.."

The Dragonborn had gained a faraway, nostalgic look, the corners of her mouth upright in a weak smile. The almost blissful expression vanished as soon as the woman returned to the present, though to Serana's pleasure the tiny smile was still there. "In my defense though, she threw the first punch after I mentioned how her face was getting as red as her hair."

"What an eventful start to your relationship." Serana commented once the mortal had finished, unable to keep from smiling like an idiot herself.

The image of a young Dragonborn brawling it out with another child was... something. The vampire shook her head trying to rid herself of the thought. "If you lived in High Rock, how did you end up in Skyrim then?" The outline of her own home was growing closer and closer, becoming clearer through the fog. The vampire couldn't explain the heavy weight in the pit of her stomach if she tried.

The mortal didn't seem to notice how the vampire's eyes were not quite focused on her, instead looking past the woman at the imposing silhouette of Volkihar Castle. "When we were nearly nineteen, my sister found out about an arranged marriage our parents had set her up in. She was not very happy about it. One night she woke me, and told me she was running away to Skyrim to join the College of Winterhold. I came with her."

 _Winterhold.. It's nice to know one thing is still the same after all this time._ Serana tore herself away from the growing sight of the castle at the woman's answer. "The College of Winterhold is still standing? Wow. You were a student there?" If so, that explained the Dragonborn's proficiency with all those kinds of magic on the road.

The mortal nodded, her wistful look returning. "Hm, yes. It was an interesting experience. One of my classmates, a Dumner named Brelyna, once turned me green for a day."

Serana remembered to keep slicing the oars into the cold sea this time, as she listened. "Wait, what? She turned you green?"

The Dragonborn nodded again, eyes downcast, though the dreamy smile had made a reappearance. "Yes. She needed help testing a few spells, and they turned me green." The Dragonborn dragged in a heavy breath of frigid air as she recalled the memories. "After it wore off she convinced me to help her again, which got me turned into a horse, then a cow, then a dog before she could return me to my normal form."

Serana chuckled softly in response, and the Dragonborn joined her for a brief moment, but she fell silent when she lifted her gaze and looked Serana in the face to ask:

"What about you, Serana? Do you have any siblings?"

The question was shocking to her for some reason. Serana had not expected the Dragonborn to be interested in such a thing, but... she had just shared a part of her own past and Serana felt that it would only be polite to do the same.

The vampire's lips pressed together, and she shook her head side to side. "No, I'm an only child."

And for that, she was grateful. Serana would never want to have a brother or sister suffer along with her being in between Valerica and Harkon's tumultuous relationship, and if that sibling had been a girl... no, it was better this way. A thousand times better.

The Dragonborn tilted her head, and blinked once at her with a thoughtful expression. "Just how old are you, exactly?"

This provoked a little amused breath from her, and averting her eyes to peer out over the stretch of the rising and falling black ocean, Serana grinned. Volkihar Castle was growing larger and larger with every stroke. "You know, it's not very polite to ask a lady her age."

"A lady.." The Dragonborn scoffed, and Serana snapped her eyes back to her with a scowl.

"Ah-" The other woman started before the vampire could get a scathing reply out, "I mean, yes, I'm sorry. It's just..." The Dragonborn's brows furrowed, and she pursed her lips. "You don't act very.."

Like her age? Like her "status"? Yes, Serana had been told that before, in a much more wounding way from her father. From the Dragonborn, however, it was slightly gratifying.

"Old? Wise?" She offered drolly, smiling, though it faltered when her eyes were drawn to the castle looming behind the mortal.

"Well, yes," The Dragonborn shrugged, and when she sighed, it helped Serana tear her attention from the quickly approaching Castle Volkihar. It sounded like the woman were about to confess something, and Serana was immediately intrigued.

"You are very down to earth, Serana. I find it easy to talk to you, and sometimes I forget that you're even..." Unable to take her hands from the oars, the Dragonborn nodded at her, her eyes darting from Serana's face down to her body. "Well, you know."

Serana felt a flutter within her, a ridiculous, sugar-filled throb in her chest that nearly made her want to leap with joy. The Dragonborn had complimented her, on her _personality_ of all things.

She flashed the most charmed smile she could manage, and even impressed herself with own her cool voice that didn't betray how flustered she actually was. "Thank you," She said sincerely, then lowered her tone to something more sarcastic, "I pride myself in my flawless people skills. It really helps lure those clueless mortals in."

The Dragonborn sighed again, the faintest of smiles quirking the corner of her mouth. "Of course you had to ruin it. I'm trying to be nice, here, vampire."

 _Oh, you're being_ very _nice._ And Serana absolutely loved it. Usually when she was given praise, it was directed towards her physical appearance, and her outfit certainly didn't do anything to deter such comments.

Serana opened her mouth, but stopped herself short and only exhaled sharply through her teeth. Her arms stopped moving, and she stared vacantly over the Dragonborn's head at Castle Volkihar.

The shore was barely 20 feet away now, and her home, her family was so close. As soon as the castle had come into her full view, the sight of it flushed her with an odd bitter-sweet feeling.

She was finally home after all of this time. Would would be waiting to greet her behind those brick walls, her mother, or her father? Why was the thought of reuniting with her father more dreadful?

Realizing that the vampire had stopped rowing, the mortal did so herself, twisting around to face the approaching island. When the Dragonborn's end of the boat finally met the gravelly beach with a jolt, she was still gazing up at the massive castle.

Serana couldn't contain the twitching of her hands. She shut her eyes to block the familiar view out, butterflies fluttering within her.

The vampire opened them when the boat was tugged beneath her; the Dragonborn had stepped onto the ocean-soaked sand and was dragging the dinghy to what remained of the castle's dock. Serana pulled her oars into the boat when the mortal stopped, securing it to the nearest slanted post with a frayed rope. Seagulls soared overhead, their shadowy forms cutting through the salted air like knives.

The Dragonborn approached her end of the boat, hand outstretched.

The vampire accepted the mortal woman's gesture, clasping the gloved hand in her own pale one as she pulled herself out of the dinghy. Her companion didn't release herself from the hold until Serana's feet were planted firmly on the sand.

"You never mentioned you lived in a castle, Princess."

The vampire was instantly bristling at the uttered nickname. "Don't call me that.. and it wasn't important at the time." Serana retorted indignantly, throwing back the excuse once used by the Dragonborn their first night on the road.

"You didn't think that the fact that you're vampire royalty was important?" The mortal parroted more familiar words, the smirk on her usually expressionless face teasing rather than cruel.

The vampire growled a warning, glancing away, arms crossed, to face the castle towering over the both of them.

Damn that woman. She was truly too quick-witted for her own good sometimes.

The mortal sighed. "I'm _sorry_ Serana." A hand was placed lightly on her shoulder. The vampire returned her gaze to the Dragonborn, making no move to shrug it off. "Are you doing alright?" She asked in a soft voice that immediately wiped the pout from the vampire's face.

"Yes. I think so," The hand fell away. The Dragonborn looked at her expectantly. "Listen, you don't have to come any further with me," The woman blinked as Serana continued with a grateful smile. "You've done what you promised, I'm home, so, uh, thank you."

The Dragonborn appeared sort of shocked; you'd think Serana had just punched her grandmother in the nose right in front of her seeing the expression on her face. She even took a step back, blinking again before answering.

"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose I have.." The mortal acknowledged a little sullenly.

Adorably was a more appropriate word to the vampire. Serana's smile was sad as she watched the Dragonborn's fingers brush across her cheek anxiously.

Her companion crossed her own arms, a gloved hand cradling her elbow.

"Huh." She huffed. "You think you can get rid of me that easily, vampire? Isran would be furious if I didn't take this chance to scope out a vampire nest. I'm coming with you." The Dragonborn declared, a relentless determination lighting her amber eyes.

Words couldn't express the relief Serana felt hearing those words. The Dragonborn wasn't going to leave her. She wasn't going to have to face her parents alone.

The vampire's smile faded however. This isn't how it should've happened. The mortal needed to get as far from this castle as possible. If Serana could detect just how.. unique she was, her father would be able to do the same just as quickly. She would be a newborn lamb right in the middle of a wolf's den.

 _You can't_ , she desperately wanted to say, though Serana was well acquainted with the woman's stubbornness by now. Telling her not to follow her in wouldn't do a thing.

"Okay..." The vampire murmured in reply, closing her eyes for short moment trying to smother her conflicting thoughts. She opened them to that same, persistent look upon her. "I hope you know what you're getting into. You're going to be surrounded by vampires, so while we're in there.. please just let me do all the talking."

The Dragonborn nodded once in understanding.

They left the shore, walking past the crumbling watchtower, and across the snow-peppered bridge leading to Volkihar Castle's massive gate.

A single watchman stood behind the closed barred gate, leaning against the arch of the wall with a lit torch burning by his head. Spotting the two women, the male vampire swiftly pushed himself upright.

"You!" He barked, "How dare you trespa-" The lesser vampire's voice choked as Serana stepped into the flickering light the fire provided. "Y-you!" He stuttered, grabbing the bars to press himself into them. "Lady Serana, you've returned!" He exclaimed, all previous hostility replaced by excitement.

"I'll open the gate right away!" He uttered loudly, darting to the other side of the doorway to yank a rusted lever downward. The gate shot upward with a bang, letting loose tufts of stray snow and shards of ice.

He nearly tripped over his own feet rushing to reach large double doors for the two of them, politely holding one side of the door open as Serana entered, the Dragonborn close behind her.

As soon as the mortal's other foot stepped into the threshold, the watchman was rushing ahead.

"Listen everyone!" His delighted voice carried in from the main hall, "Lady Serana has returned!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP froki 2016-2016


	5. A New Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After rejecting Harkon's offer to become a vampire, I was banished from Volkihar Castle. While our time together was short, I can't help but worry about Serana. I hope she is happy, now that she's home again._

_"I offer you my blood," Lord Harkon declared with a flourish, and Serana felt whatever touch of color her skin possessed fade from her. "Take it and walk as a lion among sheep, men will fear your approach, and you will never fear death again." An evil glint in his eyes, her father stopped his pacing to stand before the Dragonborn, hands folded behind his back._

_Serana's head shot around to the mortal woman, a frown on her face._

_She couldn't, it would be like signing her own death warrant if she accepted! In all of his centuries, her father Harkon had never been able to create a successful fledgling. Much like his twisted psyche, his blood was volatile and poisonous. Every last one of his previous attempts had died slow and agonizing deaths. They could not handle the strain of his malicious power, no one could, so no, Serana would not allow her to._

_If anyone was going to turn that mortal into a vampire, it was going to be her!_

_The court in an uproar of whispers ranging from awe to outrage all around them, the Volkihar heiress fixed her oblivious father with a glare._

_He was focused so intensely on the mortal, all other distractions were nothing but background noise, not even the muttering she knew he hated so._

_It burned her to the core, a possessive feeling flushing through her and the bitter tang of jealousy on her tongue. The Dragonborn was.. hers..?_

_Where did she get off thinking such things?_

_With a fierce shake of her head, Serana turned her eyes upon the mortal woman in question who stood in silence, perhaps waiting for the chatter to die down before replying._

_Harkon took notice of this as well, the deceptively polite smile he wore transforming into a scowl. The court was quiet as a graveyard after the single withering glare he gave them._

_With bated breath, the vampires of Volkihar Castle awaited the Dragonborn's answer._

_"And if I refuse your gift?" Serana's mortal companion spoke at last, her voice even and firm despite the many pairs of hungry eyes boring into her._

_Several members of the court, mostly women, gasped aloud as if were a personal offense._

_No longer smiles and manners, her father bared his teeth, hissing softly. "Then you will be prey, like all mortals."_

_What a hit that must have been to that insufferable ego of his, Serana would have loved to throw her head back and laugh._

_"I will spare you this once, but you will be banished for all eternity from this castle." Harkon growled, his posture hunched and voice dangerously low._

_Serana was feeling the urge to throw herself between him and the Dragonborn. She didn't care if she had to fight Harkon herself, he wasn't going to lay a single finger on the woman. She found herself inching closer to the mortal's back._

_The Dragonborn, her face uncovered and expression plain to see, parted her lips as if she were going to speak again. Harkon did not give her the chance._

_"Perhaps you need more convincing!" He roared, taking a menacing step forward._

_The woman promptly took a step back, most likely feeling the sinister pulse of magic that washed off of him along with Serana. It had her skin crawling, a genuine spark of fear bringing her heart to life as her father doubled over._

_No.. he wasn't.._

_With sickening pops of his skeleton, Lord Harkon was engulfed in an inky blackness. His own scarlet blood mixed with the shadows, pouring outward from the center of his chest to mingle with the darkness until what was left was a mass in the amorphous shape of a man. Releasing an ear-splitting screech, the hellish form of the Vampire Lord took shape, spraying soullessly black liquid in all directions._

_He was._

_Serana unwillingly flinched, shrinking behind the stoic figure of the Dragonborn despite the woman being shorter of the two of them._

_But when a single drop of blood splattered across her cheek, the mortal woman jerked as well, alarm in her amber eyes. She stood rigid, taking in the demon that had exploded into existence with shock._

_"Well? This is the power that I offer, mortal, make your choice!" Lord Harkon growled, spreading grey-skinned arms wide, flexing each long claw on his massive hands. His palm was nearly as big as the mortal's head, and a talon as long as her index finger. The Vampire Lord was a truly intimidating creature._

_Harkon simply just being himself was enough to put Serana on edge, and now she felt her body coiled as tight as a spring by the tension. She was able to morph into the form as well, though she had hardly used it before her imprisonment. It felt.. evil.. too evil even for her._

_Hastily lifting the heel of her hand to her cheek, the mortal wiped away the stray drop of blood, collecting herself with a sharp breath. She glanced over her shoulder at Serana, seeking a solution in the vampire's fiery red eyes. Painfully aware of the fear that she was unable to hide, Serana shook her head no as discreetly as possible._

_The Dragonborn faced Lord Harkon, inhaling heavily. Her voice did not falter one bit when she gave her final answer._

_"I refuse."_

_For a terrifying moment, Serana expected her father to lunge at the Dragonborn. He did not, though his response was ten times as terrifying than what she had expected of him._

_Strangely calm, a placid look on his face, Harkon's feet lifted from the floor. The two leathery wings on his back stretched, as if catching the air to keep himself hovering upright. A muscular grey arm stretched outward, a churning ball of purple energy licking between ash-colored fingers._

_"So be it." Lord Harkon rumbled, closing his fist around the swirling energy._

_The space the Dragonborn had once stood was swallowed by a purple rift, and Serana watched her disappear in the blink of an eye with muted contempt._

_She was gone, the Dragonborn.. was gone. Serana was reunited with her family at last, but she could not have felt more alone._

* * *

Harkon hadn't even given her a hug, nor a kiss.

Serana probably wouldn't have wanted either, if she were being honest, but the lack of any sign of affection still stung.

Her father had simply slipped the Elder Scroll's strap from over her shoulder, grasped his prize tightly in one palm, and the other he placed in between her shoulder blades to begin steering her out of the main room and toward the hallway.

She was stiff beneath his touch, her shoulders draw up tightly and an inescapable urge to move away consuming her. Serana let her father walk her down the shadow-shrouded hallway, however, knowing exactly what their destination was. It wouldn't last too long, she could take some solace in that fact.

"It's good to see you again, my dear." Harkon told her in a tone lacking sincerity, and from the way his voice carried, Serana would have bet that he was looking at the Elder Scroll in his hand instead of her.

She would have liked to scoff, but Serana kept her disdain to herself, red eyes roaming the unkempt hallway around her. Compared to the already.. sinister look of Castle Volkihar's interior, it was a mess of dust and cobwebs. No one had disturbed this part of the castle for a very long time.

"I feared I would not see you again," Harkon spoke again, and involuntarily, one of Serana's brows quirked. She found herself desperately searching for any speck of sentiment in his voice when he continued. "..After your  _harlot_  of a mother stole you away, I could not find you, no matter how zealously I searched."

Serana's teeth clamped together, producing a soft popping noise from inside her mouth that she hoped Harkon would not take notice of.

No, there was no love in his voice, only bitter hatred and empty promises.

He had what he wanted now, what he had always wanted after he had discovered that cursed prophecy, the-

"Now you have returned, and with the Elder Scroll intact, at that!" Her father barked, taking his hand from her for a moment only to slap it into her back with enough force to nearly make her double over.

Serana let out a startled gasp, bringing her arm to hug her middle and recollect her breath. Thankfully, they had stopped, right outside a familiar door.

Her lips parted for her to inhale shakily, Serana lifted her eyes from her feet to study that familiar door. A feeling of nostalgia flooded her, but it was shattered by Harkon's voice interrupting her thoughts.

"You'll find your things as you left them, I had your chambers cleaned every hundred years in your absence,"

 _How kind of him_ , Serana sneered internally. As if Harkon had really spent the effort to maintain her things while she had been gone. He didn't care about her enough to do that.. did he...?

"I expect you to join me at dinner," Her father went on, reaching out to pat her shoulder indolently. "As for now, I have other matters to attend to." Glancing down at the Scroll in his hands, Harkon's mouth split into a wicked grin, and he turned from her to stalk back down the hallway.

She watched him go, her gaze following the billowing ends of his cape as Harkon walked further and further away until he melted into the shadows.

She was alone. Again. She turned to the door that led into her room.

Serana stood in front of that door, taking in its every weathered and dust-covered detail. She lifted her index finger and traced a discolored line that was on the wood, and let out a faint sigh.

She hadn't expected to actually see this door again. She'd… what had she thought? That instead of returning home, she would continue travelling with the Dragonborn? That the two of them would cross mountains, gorges, and rivers side by side for the rest of time?

Yes, she supposed she had thought so childishly. She had not wanted their little adventure to end, but here she was, home at last, and feeling wholly unsatisfied about it.

Serana's fingers uncurled where she had them resting on the surface of the door, and she brought them down to the brass knob. Twisting it, she pushed the door inward, and walked into her room.

Everything looked the same as she had left it; her lavish queen-sized bed against the stone wall in front of her, an impressive full-sized, and fully occupied bookcase on the right, and her vanity on the left. Every other piece of furniture and her various knick-knacks remained where she  _believed_  she had abandoned them over a millennia ago, frankly, Serana wouldn't have been able to tell otherwise.

The vampire stood in the center of her chambers for several long seconds, red eyes sweeping around the familiar room. She stopped when she caught sight of the painting over her bed.

She looked into the eyes of her own image captured in paint, Harkon standing by her shoulder, but the rest of the picture was obscured. Someone had ripped the canvas down to the rim of the frame to block out part of the image. Her mother's likeness should have been there, Serana realized. Had her father really..?

Serana lowered her eyes, and sighed wearily through her mouth. Of course he had.

_What the hell was she supposed to do now?_

The Dragonborn wasn't here for her to pester, study, or talk to anymore. What  _could_  she do?

And so the vampire set out for anything to relieve her boredom, paging through her books, messing with the alchemy table in the corner, and rummaging through her own dressers, all to keep her crushing sense of ennui at bay.

At last, when she had exhausted all her options and _actually_  could not find anything else to do, Serana threw herself onto her mattress, arms fanned out by her sides.

She gazed up at her ceiling, taking notice of the spiderweb in the far right corner, but her thoughts were far from Castle Volkihar.

She missed the Dragonborn. She would accept that, because there was no use in lying to herself. She missed that mortal woman so much, and perhaps she was being too dramatic, so much that it hurt.

What she wouldn't give to be at her side again.

* * *

**Months Later...**

The Dragonborn strolled in the massive shadow of Dayspring Canyon, boots splashing into shallow puddles and crunching over the well-worn gravel of a frequently walked path. The yellowish grasses were heavy with morning dew, and the trees dripping with crystalline water from recently fallen rain.

The skies were clear now, a soft orange masked by red clouds. The sun was just beginning to peek over the rim of the canyon that stretched far above, a protective stone wall covered in ivy and moss around the teeming valley. The woman could hear the rustling of animals hidden in the brush and see the deer on the ridge of a nearby hill. The birds had already woken, filling the air with morning song.

It was a very lovely walk. Charming even, being surrounded by stunning wildlife and bathed in the golden sunlight rather than trudging through unforgiving tundra or mold-covered caverns.

The Dragonborn tilted her head back, almost blissfully, drawing in a deep breath.

The air smelled like honeysuckle and wild mountain flowers, crisp and clean.

Serana would really enjoy this scenery. That vampire was always a sap for pretty landscapes and pleasant weather, though she never wasted time complaining about terrible weather either.

The Dragonborn peered up at a watchtower rising above the treeline through her lashes, the long grass brushing her arms and berry bush thorns snagging at her waist. She hadn't realized she'd veered off the path. The woman stumbled her way back onto the beaten road, brushing away sticking thorns and snapped bits of branches.

It was there again, that odd empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Serana. That damn vampire continued to lurk in the back of her mind even after all this time.

She would be long into a deep pit of denial by now if she ignored the feelings of loneliness the vampire had left her with.

The Dragonborn was a solitary woman, she could do most things on her own, and didn't require much social interaction, but.. she'd grown accustomed to the bloodsucker being at her side after their weeks of travel together.

It was just.. Serana had been nice, put very simply. The Dragonborn had enjoyed her company, and during their short time together she had strove to earn the vampire's approval. She couldn't explain  _why_  but.. she had wanted Serana to like her.

 _Ugh._  It was pathetic, clinging to memories of the vampire like she did. It may well be that they would never meet again, so why did it still hang with her?

The Dragonborn held her head in her palms, dragging them tiredly down her uncovered face with a sigh. She had no need to wear her helmet here, Isran, Gunmar, Celann, they had been too busy being vampire-hunting hermits to be in touch enough with Skyrim to know who she truly was.

Though, it wasn't like anyone beside her closest allies and friends had seen her true appearance, so arriving in nothing but simple armor and without a helmet had been the best option. She was just another recruit.

At least jumping onto the wagon with this cause gave her another chance to take a break from being the "mighty" Dragonborn.

Lifting her downcast gaze from the dirt beneath her feet to the sky, the Dragonborn searched the mounting slope for any sign of the fort tucked away in the recesses of the canyon. Her attention was momentarily caught by a butterfly, its wings a soothing blue, fluttering by lazily. She didn't fight the pleasant smile it brought about. This place was so gorgeous.

She really wished Serana were here to enjoy it as well. Something about the way the vampire's face had just lit up with delight when seeing something as beautiful as this canyon was simply adorable.

Fort Dawnguard's tan bricks and towers were becoming clearer and clearer through the trees. It was almost as magnificent a fortress as Castle Volkihar, though the inside was a little lackluster, covered in cobwebs and dust from years of vacancy. At least there weren't tables lined with corpses and bloodied goblets, and the dogs here were adorable and hug-able, not skeletal and skinless.

The Dragonborn trekked up the twisting path, a ridge of granite on her right side, hugging the lone watchtower still a good distance from the fortress. The way through to the ground camp was guarded by a spiked wooden barriers.

Past the barriers stood a newly erected wall of lumber sharpened at the tips and a heavy closed gate. Twin flags, bearing the symbols of the Dawnguard, trembled in the weak breeze on either side of the gate.

The woman raised her eyebrows, stopping her in tracks. They had been busy while she had been gone, off tracking down that Sorine and convincing her to return to Isran. She'd spent hours slopping through river mud and fighting off mudcrabs for the lady's damn Dwarven gyros.

The Dragonborn was preparing to start forward again when a familiar face appeared over the wall where a guard post must have been standing behind it.

"Hey, Lielle! Welcome back!" A man covered from head to toe in the Dawnguard's signature light armor, exclaimed from his lookout position. Celann, the first Dawnguard member she had met alongside the orc Durak, practicing with crossbows in the ground camp when she initially arrived with another man, some farm boy whose name she could not recall.

He was also the first to ask her name, which she gave, in a way. She'd already lied about her real identity, what trouble would a pseudo name be?

The Dragonborn smiled back at the grinning Breton man, giving him a small wave in response.

Celann was nice, though he was the epitome of "justice". He may have been a stickler for the orthodox, but he was friendly and encouraging to the recruits, whereas Durak was more willing to point out every flaw in one simple mistake than to compliment them for trying.

"Here, I'll get the gate for you." The Breton's red-haired head disappeared behind the wall, the heavy footsteps padding against the gravel on the other side. The cumbersome gate swung outward, revealing Celann with that approachable smile still on his face.

The Dragonborn returned the look despite herself. Something about Celann's constant high-spirits was just so infectious, especially since he seemed to double his efforts whenever it involved her.

The woman stepped forward, hoping to simply slip past the Breton man without anymore talk, though Celann was already slapping a hand onto her shoulder and walking alongside her as she carried on to the imposing Fort Dawnguard.

The touch instantly drained the carefree feeling from the Dragonborn; she felt awfully vulnerable without her helmet. At least when people put their hands on her while wearing it, they couldn't see the discomfort a simple brush of the skin caused. The hands that had been laid on her in the past had been anything but friendly.

"Congratulations on getting Sorine back here, she arrived just a couple hours ago. Last I heard she and Isran weren't on the best of terms, so good work there." Celann mused as they walked, his grip hardly as bruising as her mind had convinced her it would be.

Struggling to reign in the growing panic the sudden contact had jolted through her body like lightning, she nodded mutely. Celann wasn't an enemy, he was an ally. It was fine, she was fine.

They passed the camp where Durak and a group of fresh faces were having target practice, the chorus of wire being drawn back and releasing bolts like clockwork. They started climbing up a second hill leading the main gate of the fortress. Celann jostled her shoulder gently before speaking again. The Dragonborn was stiff under his palm.

She wanted to shake him off, but that would be rude.

"Oh, by the way, Isran said he needed to see you when you got back." Celann's grin faded as he peered down at the shorter woman. "You haven't done anything to piss off the old man, have ya?"

Able to maintain a straight face through years of figuratively crushing her emotions to dust with her bare hands, the Dragonborn looked up at the Breton man. "Who, me?" She mustered up in reply, hoping to pull off some air of innocence.

If Isran was upset with her, it could really be anything. She didn't exactly take too kindly to being ordered around by anyone, especially some uptight Redguard whose ethics she didn't usually agree with. Thankfully their disagreements never rose above bitter words or dirty looks.

Celann's grin had returned, accompanied by a short laugh that shook his entire body that had her own shoulder shaking in his hold.

Much to her relief they had reached the stairs before it could last too long, where two braziers crackled with white-hot fire in their embers.

The Breton released her at last, leaving her with a wish of good luck before retreating back down the winding hill to his post at the front gate.

With a shaky breath, the Dragonborn clambered up the stone steps, and with both palms pressed into the enormous double doors, she shoved them inward.

* * *

Serana was in a torture chamber.

It had taken a lot of convincing, and maybe a bit of her magic, just to get inside Fort Dawnguard without being impaled twenty times over, only to find that the mortal she was looking for wasn't even there!

So the Redguard man, Isran if she remembered correctly, had her waiting in the torture chamber for the Dragonborn's return.

Perhaps it was meant to intimidate her, with the rusted blades laying around the room and chains hanging from the walls. The blood staining nearly every surface of the tight quarters was another vampire's, stale-smelling and just plain disgusting. It looked as if the Dawnguard literally ripped the unknown vampire to pieces and just smeared him across the walls and floors.

And they called the vampires the savage ones.

Serana's entire childhood home had a similar look, so the only thing she felt now was awkward, leaned against the cleanest part of the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

The female vampire sighed. That damn woman, always finding ways to inconvenience her no matter how far apart they were.

At least she was finally out of that castle, and more importantly, away from her father. It had not been easy slipping under his radar; he'd only been interested in having her around for all the wrong reasons. Harkon wanted the Scroll, the most difficult part of her "escape" had been getting the artifact out of his sight and then smuggling it, along with herself, into the underground tunnels beneath the castle.

She already could imagine how furious Harkon must be by now, having discovered her and the scroll's absence.

In fact, he'd probably already sent out a search party, and if he managed to get his hands on her again...

Serana allowed her senses to wander as her patience wore thin and her boredom grew. Eavesdropping on the mundane conversations of the Dawnguard could provide her with some kind of entertainment, but there weren't many to choose from. The Dawnguard seemed to be lacking in members.

She was only able to recognize the one soul she knew in the massive fortress.

The Redguard, barking his head off in that far-too-loud voice of his. He sounded like he was on the same floor as she was, though he was yelling down into the entrance hall. A female voice and slightly accented male voice answered him, but according to the vampire's nose there were  _three_  people in the atrium.

Serana perked up, pushing off the wall and focusing on the four mortals. She might have heard the faint creak of the door's hinges a minute ago...

The vampire collected a deep breath, the stench of the rotting blood all around her nearly masking a scent she had not known in while. How long had it been, a couple weeks, a month? Time was hardly an issue for her, but it felt like it had been too long.

One pair of boots stomped toward the staircase, the second mortal's approach nearly silent. Those enchanted boots of hers were certainly something, but Serana could detect another heartbeat besides Isran's. She was here.

"Lielle." The Redguard greeted in that gruff tone of his with a hint of disdain.

"Hello Isran." The vampire was instantly brightening at the sound of that voice reaching her ears.

 _Lielle? That's not.. why is she answering to a false name?_  Serana crossed her arms, wanting nothing more than barge into the hallway between them and get past all these pleasantries. She needed some solutions. She needed to speak with the Dragonborn. She needed to  _see_  the Dragonborn with her own two eyes again.

"You've got a visitor." The Redguard man grumbled, Serana tracking every heavy footfall he took closer and closer to the room.

Serana stood straight as the mortal man came into sight, regarding her with that scowl so full of hatred she half expected to burst into flames under the willpower of it. She shrugged off the Redguard's obvious scorn, looking past him at the surprised face of the Dragonborn.

Isran settled himself by the wall across from Serana, his frown permanent, moving between the mortal woman and the vampire.

"Serana?" The woman uttered as she stumbled further into the room, without a helmet to hide the shock in her expression.

The vampire smiled, a genuine smile with closed lips. The Dragonborn smiled back. She almost looked as if were going to step closer to hug the vampire, something Serana probably would have reciprocated if not for Isran's interruption.

The Redguard cleared his throat rather obnoxiously. "Well, we're all here, vampire, so let's hear it."

Serana's mood instantly plummeted, breaking her gaze with the Dragonborn's to face the mortal man. Isran glared right back, a gauntlet-covered hand already hovering over the hilt of his sword. The vampire sighed, closing her eyes and opening them to woman. Stupid Redguard, ruining what could have been the best reunion of her long, long life.

A slight smirk found its way onto her lips. "I bet you weren't expecting to see me again."

It was refreshing, having a conversation with the Dragonborn without a helmet between them. Serana loved to see the emotions on her face; she wasn't as skilled at hiding her physical reactions as she must have thought she was.

The woman swallowed thickly, something between concern and happiness shining in her fiery eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Serana stole another glance at Isran, who continued to glare, as if she'd just drop dead right there with a look.

"Look, I'd rather not be here, but I needed to talk to you, and this was the easiest way I knew how to find you." The woman's head tilted, blinking. "It's important, so please hear me out before your buddy here loses his patience."

The Redguard grunted something inaudible under his breath.

The Dragonborn looked almost pleadingly to the mortal man, receiving a pointed, still-scowling look in response. When he gave no other feedback, she drew closer to Serana so that they were barely three feet apart.

"What's this about, Serana?" The Dragonborn demanded.

Oh, how the vampire just wanted to grab the mortal and trap her in her arms. Having nothing but the company of a psychopath and indifferent court snobs for the past few weeks had gotten old pretty quickly. Now, she had a friendly face and reassuring heartbeat nearby instead of leering and wicked looks.

Truthfully, she'd missed the mortal. It had felt as if she were missing a limb the entire time since returning home, slinking from corner to corner of Volkihar Castle trying to avoid her father. Serana had, somewhat regrettably, grown fond of the Dragonborn. That woman was the cause of an abundance of conflicted feelings, but Serana couldn't imagine  _not_  having her around.

Fingers curling around the strap the scroll, Serana gave a sentimental smile regardless of the grim news she came to deliver. "The Elder Scroll, the reason I had it, and why I was down there in that crypt. It all comes back to my father."

The Dragonborn nodded, and so Serana went on. The hostility Isran practically radiated with was replaced with intrigue.

"My father isn't exactly a good person, even by vampire standards." That was the understatement of the era, Harkon was just plain evil. They'd never really gotten along, Serana had always been closer to her mother; her father..

 _Focus, Serana!_  She must have spaced out for a brief moment, Isran's frown had deepened and the woman's hand was raised as if she were going to reach out to the vampire. Serana shook her head briefly to the mortal, whose hand fell away. "He.. he wasn't always like this though. It started when he discovered this prophecy and just kinda lost himself in it."

"What sort of prophecy?" The Dragonborn asked. Isran's attention was fully hooked, gone were the death looks, but he was still frowning bleakly.

Serana shrugged, both hands clutching around the thin leather strap. "It's pointless and vague, you know, like all prophecies. The part he's so obsessed with mentions how vampires will no longer have to fear the sun. That's what he's after. He wants to control the sun, and in turn have vampires control the world."

Both Isran and the Dragonborn started slightly, Isran was furious and the woman had paled considerably as the gravity of the vampire's words sunk in. "What? Control the sun? That's-"

Isran's face had darkened, Serana swore she could see a vein about to burst in his forehead, as she cut in:

"I'm not done," The Dragonborn pressed her lips together, her brows furrowing. "My mother and I weren't in favor of inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why she's on the run, and that's why I was hidden in that crypt with the Elder Scroll. It's a key part of the prophecy, without he, he can't complete it."

The Dragonborn's head shook languidly, eyes closed, fingers massaging the bridge of her nose. "Okay.. okay, wow."

Wow indeed. This was hardly believable, maybe the woman trusted her, but the Dawnguard would doubtlessly rather run her through than take any kind of advice or warning she had to offer if the Redguard was anything to go by.

"Why did you take such a big risk coming here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I heard that there were vampire hunters here," Serana turned to Isran. "I _thought_  that they might want to hear about a vampire's plot to destroy the sun and enslave the mortal world." Serana faced the Dragonborn again, who was looking slightly overwhelmed. "Was I wrong?"

The woman blinked again, slowly, exhaling as she looked to Isran. "No, you weren't.

Serana turned to Redguard as well.

"All right, you've heard what it has to say. Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill this blood-sucking demon right where it stands?" Isran growled once the spotlight had been turned on him.

_It? How rude._

The mortal woman did all the indignant bristling for the vampire, however. "Serana is not an "it", she's a friend. Set your hatred aside and try to see the larger picture here, Isran. The Dawnguard is going to need her help."

The Dragonborn really considered her a friend? Serana's cool demeanor was completely shattered at this point; the woman really thought of her so highly? What a.. warming thought.

The vampire smiled softly in the middle of a quickly escalating argument.

The mortal man scoffed, crossing his arms. "We're going to need its help? Why? For that "prophecy"? About some vampire trying to put out the sun?" His rising voice suddenly lowered, "You actually believed that?"

Forcing herself back into reality, Serana involuntarily sunk deeper into her corner of the room. There was a great deal of obvious, preexisting tension between the two of them.

The Dragonborn's jaw was clenched, fingers flexing as she quieted a moment to collect herself. "Why else would she, a vampire, risk her life coming here?"

"Maybe it has a death wish, I don't really care, but you," The Redguard stepped forward, standing over the woman. A gloved finger jabbed into her chest, though all it seemed to do was fuel the her growing irritation. "You need to watch the company you keep,  _girl_." He sneered, the Dragonborn was returning his vindictive look tenfold despite the several inches he had over her.

"That  _friend_  of yours over there is nothing but a wolf waltzing around in sheep's clothing, the moment you let your guard down that  _thing_  is going to take advantage of it. It came all this way hunting for you, what more proof do you need to get it through that thick skull of yours that these demons are not our 'friends'?"

The vampire nearly spoke up in her own defense, though she figured it would be for the best if she stayed on the sidelines of this. She wasn't out the devour the woman whole as the Redguard had so bluntly put; the Dragonborn was so much more than prey, she was a friend, a treasure. A woman with irresistible blood flowing through her veins...

Serana had never seen the woman so riled up; though, during the majority of their time spent together any emotion had been hidden by some kind of face covering, so she'd never really seen her feel much of anything. But now, it appeared that her temper had gone and gotten the better of her.

She was almost visibly seething she came even closer to the Redguard man. Serana almost believed that she was going to swing at him.

"MY thick skull?" The Dragonborn hissed, a fist raised, though all she did was point her thumb back at herself. "Dammit, Isran you godsdamned..  _s'wit,_ " The woman reverted to her Dunmeri roots to conjure up the insult, "..we're talking about the fate of Skyrim here and you-"

"Enough!" The Redguard snarled, the volume of his cry overpowering any further scalding words. The woman bit her own tongue, a guttural noise resembling a growl rolling up her throat. They were acting more like hounds that vampire-hunters.

"I'm not going to humor this vampire any longer, it needs to leave. The Dawnguard will have no part of this "prophecy" nonsense, you got that?" The mortal man pressed, easily matching the fierceness of the Dragonborn's attitude.

This time the Dragonborn really did growl, knuckles white and fists balled up at her sides. "Fine, the Dawnguard won't have to get involved. I can do this without your help either way!" She replied, borderline childishly.

The Redguard's grimace softened; the pent-up strain and anger between them having taken its toll. Serana could imagine that the both mortals were regretting words that had been exchanged. Isran exhaled heavily, breaking the heated gaze between the two of them by closing his eyes.

"Lielle, you can't-"

"I can do what I damn well please, Isran." The woman cut him off in a voice trembling with rage.

The mortal man sighed again, looking spent. "Look, I know we've had our disagreements, but you're one of us. The Dawnguard look out for each other, so I can't just let you just walk off with this lying little devil. It won't end well."

The Dragonborn pivoted on her heel, facing the doorway. "As I stated before, Isran, I don't need the Dawnguard." She peered over her shoulder at Serana, gesturing to the exit. "Serana?"

The vampire flinched slightly, the second-hand stress of the situation weighing heavily in her chest. The woman went on, stalking briskly into the shadowed hallway, Serana hurrying to stay close. Isran exhaled again behind them, muttering something about foolish young ones.

"Looks like I'm off to save Skyrim,  _again_." The Dragonborn groused to herself as they descended the spiraling staircase. Serana would not have picked up her words, if not for her superhuman senses.

_What do you mean, again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know deep down Isran is a good guy, but man I really didn't like him at first. Especially when he treated Serana like an "it". Also, she called him a dumbass in Dunmeri.**


	6. Laid to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serana and the Dragonborn pass through Morthal on their search for the Moth Priest, but find themselves in the middle of a conspiracy involving the death of a local man's family.

The thick fog of the swamp hung low to the soaked ground, every movement disturbing the layer of mist into swirling whirlpools around their legs.

The silence of the environment was actually a little uncanny, not a single sound besides the occasional brush against a plant or the shift of her companion's plated armor. She could not even tell what time of day it was, the canopy of trees hanging above so dense that it blocked out any natural source of light.

All things considered, the vampire was mostly unaffected by their current situation, guided by the hazy silhouette of the Dragonborn in front of her who held a gently glowing lantern that pierced through the gloom like a white-hot blade.

What did she have to fear, she was a Daughter of Coldhabour, the strongest, most feared kind of vampire to exist, she _thrived_ in this kind of environment. 

Still, this marsh felt so.. empty, and that was unnerving. Where were the animals? Why did the wildlife look so twisted and menacing? Why did this sheet of vapor curling upward from the muddy earth feel so suffocating?

"I can see Morthal ahead." The Dragonborn's soothing voice suddenly warmed the eerie stillness, and Serana felt herself break free from the trance of uneasiness the infamous Morthal swamp had her spiraling into.

Blinkly quickly, the vampire transferred her gaze from the back of her companion's helmet to the space over her shoulder.

Faintly, the distant shapes of several quaint buildings could be seen, their doorways lighted by flickering torches that warded the approaching dusk away. Before them, a small river cut into the ground with an iced cobblestone bridge providing passage over its churning waters. To their left stood the vacant lumber mill, and to the right a simple straw-roofed cabin.

The Dragonborn stopped at the beginning of the bridge and Serana did the same not far behind her, lifting her palms to her face to wipe away any lingering misgivings.

Perhaps this was paranoia; she could recall every single cryptic warning given to them on their travels regarding the marshes of Hjaalmarch, of the strange sights and sounds that could barely been seen from within the blanket of ominous fog.

 _All superstition._ The vampire internally scoffed, giving her a head a light shake. She then took notice of the uncomfortable lull that the Dragonborn had allowed to settle between them, and raised her red eyes to the woman.

She had snuffed the lantern out, it hung from its metal handle in her gauntlet aimlessly, the created unearthly atmosphere giving the mortal an even more intimidating presence. Her face was so shadowed that it appeared as if the helmet she wore were completely hollow.

Serana was no outsider to the darkness, so she could detect the curve on one edge of the Dragonborn's mouth.

"What is it?" The vampire demanded in a whisper. What in Nirn did she have to smile about right now?

She was even more confused, when the usually stunted woman exhaled with amusement through her nose.

"You seem jumpy, Serana." The Dragonborn stated, canting her head. "Do you need me to hold your hand?" She offered, lifting her free palm toward the vampire.

For a split-second, Serana was offended, but she quickly picked up on the her companion's playful tone. This _better_ have been an attempt at brightening the mood.

Advancing toward her, Serana used the back of her own hand to smack the Dragonborn's downward.

"Funny." She sneered, though without malice. Now directly in front of the mortal, Serana pushed her shoulders back to cross her arms. "Did you finally grow a sense of humor on the way here?"

The Dragonborn sincerely chuckled at that one, quiet and lyrical as she shifted her gaze from the vampire to somewhere across the river. Serana always felt that each laugh she managed to wrestle out of the woman a personal win, so her wry mood instantly brightened.

"I wouldn't blame you. This is hardly very welcoming. That house over there looks like it's in ruins."

Serana followed her line of sight, squinting through the mist to the far right of Morthal's boundaries. True enough, the nearly unidentifiable mound of wooden beams and a crumbling stone chimney was all that stood on the outskirts of the city.

"This place reeks of ash and smoke, too." The mortal added, and automatically Serana gathered a deep breath to confirm it for herself.

"That there was Hroggar's home, strangers." An unexpected male voice cut in, startling the vampire so badly that she jerked toward the Dragonborn and seized the woman's upper arm.

Her red eyes darted past her companion, to the stairs of the dutifully spinning saw mill where the source of the disturbance stood.

The Dragonborn only swayed slightly supporting the added weight against her, calmly doing the same as the Volkihar vampire.

An unfamiliar middle-aged man was there, a hood drawn over his head and face lined with wrinkles that displayed his age. His eyes were dull, even haunted the vampire would dare to say, heavy bags beneath them.

Serana was less put-off by the man's worn image and more troubled by the fact that she had not sensed him sooner. Where the hell had he come from? She must have been too focused on the Dragonborn (a problem she realized that happened far too often since their meeting); no _mortal_ ever caught her by surprise.

Still clinging to her newly-found human shield, Serana was stabbing him with a glare of suspicion as the man slowly ventured nearer.

"What happened to it?" The Dragonborn asked of him as soon as he came within a more comfortable speaking range, seemingly unconcerned by his abrupt arrival.

"Burned to the ground, only a few days ago in fact. Killed his wife and child." The man sighed, looking to the gravel beneath them to add: "It's bad luck to talk about that house, but it's better that you know, stranger."

The vampire frowned even deeper when the second instance of "stranger" reached her ears. Did this man not have any idea of who he was speaking to? Serana would have thought that Skyrim's proclaimed hero would be rather well known in all corners of the province, no matter how.. remote.

And the very way this man carried himself had Serana on edge. He was cautious and tense, and the unsettling impression was infectious. While she could hardly blame him, Serana knew with firmness that she did not trust this man as high as a Horker could jump. It was obvious that the feeling was shared.

Her fingers squeezed briefly around the Dragonborn's bicep when the woman leaned forward some to address the man again. "Oh, that's a shame. Is.. Hroggar alright?"

The mortal man nodded, his expression growing guarded. Serana felt a wave of intense anxiety, because she was unable to read him as plainly due to the change in demeanor. "Yes.. he has already found a new home. Just a day after the fire, he took on a new love and lives with her now."

One of Serana's brows quirked, red eyes darting momentarily back toward the demolished dwelling in the distance.

That is a very questionable coincidence. The Volkihar vampire would admit that her curiosity was rallied by the new layer of mysteriousness that had been piled onto Morthal.

Serana could detect the skepticism in her tone, when the Dragonborn replied. "That's.. good for him."

The strange man nodded once more, his dim eyes flashing at the two of them.

"What brings you ladies to Morthal?" He steered the subject of the incident off rashly and Serana's body twitched with agitation behind the woman standing between them.

The Dragonborn was as unmovable as she always was, not a falter in her voice despite the blatant cynicism she was treated with.

"We're just passing through." She answered simply, and was granted with approving bob of the mortal man's head.

The tautness of his posture loosened, and the harsh wariness sketching into his already timeworn face softened. "I hope that your journey through the marshes were safe. The Moorside Inn is always open to travelers, it's not hard to miss. I suggest you rest there for the evening."

With that, the mortal man bowed his head curtly to them, and without any further words he walked past the two women toward the lone cabin on their side of the river.

The both of them tracked his progress up the creaking wooden steps and through the chipping wooden door that slammed shut and was followed by the click of a lock.

She and the Dragonborn merely stood together in silence afterwards, Serana's eyes glued to the home's entrance, and the mortal woman allowing herself to continue being clung to.

When Serana felt the mortal's helmeted head tilt in her direction after a while, she tore her attention off the cabin to confront her.

"You sure you don't need me to hold your hand, vampire?" The Dragonborn quipped, and Serana realized just how close their faces were, her eyes immediately drawn toward the woman's smiling mouth only several inches away from her own. She was practically draped all over her. In the short time they had known each other, Serana was usually never able to get this close to her.

The vampire instantly released her hold on the woman, back stepping and brushing her previously occupied hands down the front of her thighs. She caught one last look at the Dragonborn's pestering smirk, before turning her head sideways.

"He came out of thin air. I was stunned." She offered in her own defense.

"You were hanging onto me as if Mehrunes Dagon himself had risen from Oblivion to have a chat with us."

_Gods, this woman._

This teasing was all in good fun and all, but Serana wasn't really in the mood for it when a potential conspiracy had been dropped right into their laps. Something.. strange was going on in this city, and Serana wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Abandoning the look of indignation, Serana threw a halfhearted glare back at her tormentor. "Oh, be quiet already," She hissed, forcing her voice to drop even lower to communicate her concern. "There's something.. shady happening in this town, you know that too, right?"

The mortal's tiny grin dropped at once. "Yes... That house fire was no accident."

Serana nodded wordlessly in agreement, frowning back at her companion.

"But," The Dragonborn sighed, metal clinking as she rotated on the balls of her feet to face the bridge. "It's been a long day, let's head to the inn for now." She suggested with a wave from her free hand, beginning to walk.

Releasing a sharp gasp, Serana shot after her, a fire of exasperation fueling the scowl she directed at the woman's back. Was she seriously not at all bothered by this? There was a murder mystery in their midst, now was not the time to be apathetic!

Serana strode behind the mortal, hovering just over her left shoulder to make sure her words really sunk into that thick skull the Dragonborn possessed. "You said it yourself, those people were murdered! We should do _something._ "

They were in the middle of the stone bridge now, the murky-looking river flowing smoothly beneath them.

Once again, the woman ahead of her shook with pleasant, musical laughter. "What, do you think we're professional sleuths now, Serana? We have no evidence to back ourselves up, and-"

Without warning, a violent shudder had erupted down the vampire's pallid skin, and instinctively she reached for the mortal. The Dragonborn's words were cut short abruptly when she found herself being yanked by the hand Serana clamped around her, staggering backward into the vampire.

Serana placed her free palm on the mortal's other shoulder, trapping her in place. The woman's breezy demeanor was replaced with alarm.

"What is it?" The Dragonborn murmured, her words nearly inaudible.

Serana did not answer her, using the time it would have wasted to search their surroundings. The presence she had felt was indisputable. Another vampire was nearby.

They had reached the end of the bridge, and stood just at the start of the street that cut all the way through Morthal to the other side of the city. There was hardly anyone moving about, and the ones who were visible only loitered under the cover of their homes' porches.

One of them was a vampire, a danger to the people of Morthal, and more importantly the Dragonborn. When Serana discovered them, their meeting was not going to be very civil.

Her attention flitted back and forth between the few citizens wandering down the streets from building to building, when at last, she felt a peculiar pull toward a raven-haired woman that had just emerged from the gap between two homes.

The potent stench of blood and death hung off her like a storm cloud, and Serana felt the Dragonborn tracking her gaze to look to the woman as well.

The two vampires' eyes locked, and it felt as if time itself had stopped.

She was _right_ there. Serana had to get rid of her, she had to get her away from the Dragonborn at all costs.

A powerful feeling of possessiveness flooding her, Serana hardened her glare on the unknown female vampire all while pulling the mortal woman she had held to her even nearer.

The Dragonborn protested with a muffled, incoherent complaint, but let herself lean completely into Serana when it became clear that she wasn't going to be escaping it.

The other vampire was the first to wilt under the stress of their stare-down, blinking rapidly, before her eyes widened with recognition. Hurriedly, she made herself scarce, almost sprinting across the trodden dirt road to the platforms that stood over the small body of water that dominated the western half of Morthal.

Serana counted her every step the further she fled from them, finally losing sight of the vampire when she slithered through the door of the second to last house on the lake's docks.

The Dragonborn was not dim enough to _not_ have realized what had been happening, and so the moment the unfamiliar woman vanished, she spoke up. "Serana, who was that?"

Serana would have answered, but the middle of the street was probably not the best place to be discussing things like this.

She inhaled heavily, eyes cautiously sweeping their environment once more. They fell upon the rocking, brightly painted wooden sign hanging above the entrance of the Moorside Inn.

Her fingers tightening around the woman, she began steering the mortal off the road and up its small staircase.

"Serana, hey!" The Dragonborn groused, digging her heels into the earth to bring the both of them to a halt.

 _Dammit, she's as strong as she is stubborn._ The vampire groaned internally, unsuccessful in trying to keep the mortal moving with force. It seemed that not even her own inhuman strength was a match for this woman's determination.

Momentarily defeated, Serana sighed tiredly at the back of the mortal's head. "Hush, would you? Let's get inside, I'll tell you there."

The Dragonborn huffed, before complying. "Alright. You don't have to get all pushy." She lamented, climbing the steps and approaching the Inn's lumber double doorway.

Serana followed, rolling her eyes with poorly concealed ire. Did she really have to insist on being such a pain no matter what they were doing?

The woman ahead of her reached for the handle, and tugging it open, the mortal and vampire ventured inside.

Moorside Inn was hardly as welcoming as you would expect an inn to be. The tavern was smothered in just a melancholy mood as the entire city, its fire pit flickering weakly and its few patrons terribly lifeless.

Actually, Serana would hardly consider such a place to _be_ a tavern. There were only three people scattered around the room, and that was counting the Redguard woman that stood behind the bar and gave off the impression that she owned the building.

After greeting them with a very depressed "glad to finally have a customer", the Redguard set them up with the nicest room the inn had, which was only about as a spacious as the closet Serana had back at Volkihar Castle. It was small. Serana's anxiety only spiked.

The Dragonborn went in first, untangling the leather strap of her bag from herself to toss it onto the single bed that the room possessed. "Well? What was so special about that lady back there?"

Stopping in the center of the room, which was only about three paces from the foot of the bed, Serana replied. "She was a vampire."

 _Gods_ , she despised how tiny this room was.

The vampire watched her mortal companion's brows raise as she lowered onto the sheets.

"Oh. Huh." She remarked calmly, lifting her hands to her helmet to slide it off. 

Serana started expressing her restlessness by pacing back and forth across the cramped room, rambling internally.

_What's her deal? Is she really not at all upset about this? Innocent people have been killed, I would have thought her blood would be boiling at the mention of it.._

The vampire looked fleetingly to the mortal, who now sat upon the bed completely armorless, having stuffed her protective attire into the endless depths of her enchanted bag.

She frowned, though some part of it was out of worry. "Do you think she has something to do with that house burning down? She could have done it to take that mortal from his family, and have him to herself."

The Dragonborn merely shrugged, lifting her fingers to brush at her cheek, but bumping one her earrings and causing it to jingle. "It's a possibility. We still know nothing about what really happened."

Serana was unable to keep her frustration to herself, exhaling loudly back at the woman. "Then let's go _get_ that information. The Jarl would share every detail the moment you say who you are."

"Serana, this isn't really any of our business," The woman retorted with half-closed eyes, suddenly looking very spent. "..and that vampire woman is innocent until proven guilty. We can't just go throwing accusations around in a place as superstitious as this."

Serana, lips parted slightly, could say nothing as the woman fell backward onto the sheets and curled up on her side.

_What the hell?_

Standing at the right end of the room where she had stopped earlier, the vampire's red eyes lingered on the woman's back, before becoming struck with an idea.

Serana was _not_ going to be ignored. That other vampire had to have some hand in this tragedy, Serana was certain of it, and _they_ were going to do something about it.

Without a sound the vampire approached the opposite side of the bed, leaned over the space separating them, and pressed her naturally frigid palm into the crook of the woman's neck.

The Dragonborn yelped the second Serana's touch had landed, jerking sideways and rolling away.

"Gah! Serana, your hands are as cold as ice!" She gasped from the floor, Serana grinning with satisfaction as she circled around to stand over her.

"Corpses tend to be like that, now come on, we know that vampire is lurking around here, and she's most likely not up to any good," The vampire paused, "I would know." She added dryly.

Grumbling, the Dragonborn picked herself up, muttering sullenly just loud enough that Serana could hear. "I think this is more about you being insanely territorial instead of the well-being of these people."

A low growl came from the vampire when she stalked toward the end table where the mortal had set her helmet. Lifting it from the wooden surface, she twisted around and pressed it forcefully into the Dragonborn's chest, making her stumble.

"Let's go." Serana suggested, barely allowing the woman enough time to slip her head wear back in place before grabbing her forearm and dragging her along to the door.

* * *

Serana was feeling the inexplicable urge to run the completely opposite way of their destination as she and the Dragonborn walked over the frost-licked, wooden boardwalk leading to the burnt remains of Hroggar's home.

 _It's just a pile of charred rubble and ashes._ The more rational part of her reasoned, but her every other instinct disagreed with a resounding "get the hell out of here, Serana!".

It _was_ just a home, or what was left of it anyway, but the entire area gave off a distressing vibe that left Serana feeling.. disturbed. She did not like this place, at all. Something was very, very wrong here.

The Dragonborn strode ahead of her in that impossible state of control, not a single waver in her step or a shred of hesitation as she stepped up to the lump of blackened lumber that had once been the door stop.

Serana stopped behind her, stealing glances both left and right, and snapping her head back forward when she heard the creak of the demolished structure beneath her companion's feet.

The mortal woman climbed onto the foundation of the destroyed house and went through its empty doorway, gazing around curiously.

With a heavy sigh, Serana followed, pressing her palms into the soot-covered, half burned away frame of the wall for support as she slipped through herself.

The Dragonborn turned around to face the vampire when she joined her, crossing her arms, though to Serana it looked like she were trying to comfort herself more than be aloof.

"...Do you hear that?" The mortal questioned in a tiny voice, and it was the least likely kind of remark Serana was expecting. She sounded so agitated, _she_ , the woman who had slain countless dragons, giants, and other mighty beasts.

By this point, Serana wouldn't have felt ashamed afterward if they both bolted from the house and never looked back.

Instead, she felt her body lock up, feet firmly rooted in place as she strained her every sense to locate whatever the mortal had been referring to. "No.. what?"

The Dragonborn rocked forward on her heels a little, full expression unavailable due to her helmet, but lips pressed together in a tight, troubled grimace.

"That.." The mortal woman inhaled shakily, and Serana was alarmed to see her complexion paling considerably, from the lower half of her face that the vampire could see. She swallowed thickly before continuing. "That... humming."

 _Humming? What?_ Serana drew closer to the mortal, placing a hand on her shoulder to jostle her lightly. "Is something wrong? You're looking a little.."

" _Hello_." A child-like, hollow voice suddenly piped up to their left.

Serana flinched so violently that she went backward a couple steps, hand flying off the woman's shoulder.

The Dragonborn actually shrieked, something Serana would have found very funny if she weren't too busy being scared out of her mind as well. The mortal's heart was thundering so rapidly in her chest that the vampire felt like it was going to burst free any second.

Both of them whirled toward the origin of the greeting, to a corner of the crumbled house where the blue, nearly transparent form of a little girl stood.

 _A ghost? It's a ghost?!_ Serana screamed inwardly, her own heart coming to life to thud dully against her rib cage, fueled solely by adrenaline.

The shaken mortal recovered surprisingly well, even putting in the effort to lift her hand lamely to address the spirit: "Uh.. hi." She gasped, voice trembling and breath shuddering from her lungs. "W-who are you?"

The ghost-girl's head tilted. " _I'm Helgi, but, father tells me not to talk to strangers. Are you a stranger?_ "

Helgi.. it was.. Hroggar's child, right?

Serana turned to the Dragonborn, and the mortal woman did the same. The vampire could not see her eyes, but she could imagine they were bright with the lingering panic Helgi's appearance had caused.

The mortal inhaled unsteadily, before speaking. "No.. no, I'm a.. friend." Serana watched her drawn back shoulders slump, the woman trying to fight off her tension and speak more politely to a _ghost_ of all things. "Do you know what happened to your house?"

" _The smoke woke me up. It was hot and I was scared, so I hid._ " Helgi began solemnly, more somber than a child, even a dead one, ever should be. " _Then it got cold and dark. I'm not scared anymore._ " The intangible girl declared, her words piercing an arrowhead of pity straight through the vampire.

What a mess this was.. this girl didn't deserve to die like that. If that Hroggar did turn out to be the cause of all of this.. Serana felt her hands curling into fists and her top lip curling.

" _I am lonely though.. will you play with me?_ " Helgi requested before the Dragonborn could muster up a reply, dragging the vampire from her thoughts.

Being asked "will you play with me" by a dead girl was possibly the creepiest thing Serana had ever heard in all her centuries.

"If I do.. will you tell me who set the fire?" Her mortal companion responded, obviously uncertain.

" _Yea! Let's play hide and seek! If you find me, I'll tell you?_ " Helgi chirped radiantly, a smile barely detectable on her ethereal face.

Serana had to admire the Dragonborn's resolve, as she managed to give a wan smile back to the girl. "Okay.. it's a deal, Helgi."

" _The other one is playing too.. she's very close._ " Helgi added cryptically, and Serana was able to see her frown, before her form flickered faintly. " _If you find me before she does, I can tell you._ "

"Other one..?" Serana spoke for the first time since the ghost's arrival, the Dragonborn glancing at her over her shoulder. The mortal woman quickly returned her attention to to Helgi, when the spirit's silhouette flashed dangerously once more.

The Dragonborn gasped, lurching forward as if she would be able to catch the departing ghost without it threading right through her fingers.

"Helgi, wait! Who's the other one!?" She called into the frigid air desperately, her touch passing harmlessly through empty space when the little girl's form disappeared completely.

The Dragonborn went along with her own momentum, allowing her knees to bang into the sooty, disintegrating floorboards. Kneeling there, she hung her helmet-covered head, growling in frustration.

"Dammit.. dammit! Serana, I'm not dreaming, am I? That really happened?" She demanded distressingly, pressing her palms into the charred wood beneath her.

"No.. unfortunately." The Volkihar vampire retorted under her breath, joining in her a crouch close to the floor. She laid a palm over the woman's back, shaking her gently. "We have to find her."

The Dragonborn groaned, but didn't protest any further when Serana grabbed her arm and hauled the mortal to her feet along with her.

Well, Serana hadn't played Hide and Seek in over a thousand years. Hopefully her skills weren't too rusty.

* * *

The snow glided smoothly downward from the midnight heavens over Morthal, coating its stone streets in a blanket of white and dotting Serana from head to toe in flakes of ice.

Her teeth gritted with each delicate crunch that her boots produced over the fresh layer of snowfall, trailing the Dragonborn across the boardwalk that lined the now frozen lake pooling into the city.

The mortal, of course, made no sound at all, moving like a phantom in pitch black night. Not even the moon lent its glow to them, nothing more than a pitiful sliver of silver in the weakly sparkling sky.

Not a single other soul was around, not even a guard on his nightly patrol. Morthal felt truly empty.

The ominous atmosphere for the confrontation they were about to have was certainly set, the two of them wandering further down the walkway in silence.

An unfamiliar scent hung all along the length of it, a smell that Serana was only able to detect out of the two of them, guiding her by the nose directly to a specific place.

Serana's red eyes fell upon the second to last house that was fast approaching, the house she had witnessed her fellow vampire enter only hours before.

It was disgusting, what this vampire, Alva, had supposedly put into motion, and quite sad too. An innocent girl had been killed due to the greed of her kind, and Serana shuddered at the truth of it. She may have been a vampire, but she vowed never to stoop to that low of a level as child-killing.

The vampire blinked as she walked, watching the tiny cloud of breath that puffed from the Dragonborn's mouth when she spoke ahead of her. "This is it, right?" The mortal uttered in a whisper, climbing mutely up the home's ice-peppered steps and onto its threshold when Serana answered her with a nod.

Serana trailed her, hovering more closely to the ground to slink to the woman's side where she had stopped at the dwelling's door.

Face-level with her target, the mortal lifted each hand grasping a pick and a wedge to the keyhole of the door's lock. Within seconds the faint click of the mechanism's tumblers were heard, and the mortal quickly pocketed her tools before turning to Serana.

The woman had abandoned her rather noticeable metal helmet, and so Serana was able to look directly into her currently flinty eyes.

"If Hroggar hasn't already been turned yet, there's still some hope for him. Don't kill him, if you can." The Dragonborn requested of her, and the vampire nodded wordlessly in agreement.

That mortal man had been through enough hell to last for a lifetime, Serana believed. If he did turn out to be only enthralled by Alva, the spell could be broken, but he would return to his own consciousness and be faced with the fact that his family had been taken from him.

 _Ugh, look at me, getting all soft. Worrying left and right about every mortal in Skyrim._ Serana scoffed to herself, observing as the Dragonborn grasped the brass handle of the house's door, and turned it as quietly as possible.

Once the entrance was ajar enough for her to squeeze inside, the mortal woman did so, and Serana followed her into the softly illuminated single room of the home.

The Dragonborn having transferred hold of the door to her, Serana eased it closed carefully, red eyes tracking the hunched figure of the mortal woman slinking toward the lone bed toward the right of the flickering fireplace.

It didn't seem that Alva was around, only the sleeping form of Hroggar was visible on its mattress, the space next to him empty.

At least, that was what Serana believed before she noticed the staircase on the left the fireplace that led downward.

But that was the least of her worries at the moment, Hroggar still hadn't been dealt with.

Serana looked back to the two mortals, seeing the Dragonborn standing right at the sleeping man's side. She had her hands held just over him, one going for his neck, and the other gradually cupping over his mouth and nose.

Before she made contact with him, the woman stopped, and turned to the vampire. "He has bite marks, but he's still breathing and doesn't feel cold."

"It's not too late, then." Serana murmured in reply, eyes darting toward the lone staircase. After Alva was dealt with they'd need to force a Cure Disease potion down his throat as soon as possible, though.

The Dragonborn made a sound of acknowledgement, and resumed with what she had been planning to do to incapacitate the mortal man.

She clamped her hand forcefully around Hroggar's neck, instantly startling him awake with the other cutting off his alternate sources of oxygen. The frightened man lurched, his voice muffled by his assailant's palm, and Serana almost moved to assist the Dragonborn until the woman struck him in the middle with her knee, instantly silencing him.

Hroggar slumped into the sheets of his bed with a grunt, eyes rolling back into his skull.

The woman was scowling when she unhanded him, stepping away from the furniture to gaze around the small room. "I would have thought Alva would show herself by now, with us meddling in her business like this." She sighed to Serana.

 _Yes, she's likely too busy cowering.. in.. the.. here?_ What?

Serana's entire being froze, mind, senses, body and all, with the realization of the presence she was feeling. Alva was here. In this room. How had she masked herself for such a long time?!

It was then that she noticed the silhouette standing in the small gap between a cupboard and the well, just behind the Dragonborn.

The world dipped into slow motion at that point, Alva gliding out of her hiding place with her smoldering eyes locked onto the mortal woman standing just a couple feet from her, and Serana hastily shortening the distance between herself and the oblivious Dragonborn.

Serana knew that glint in the other vampire's gaze all too well. Did she really think she would have been able to get away with having a taste of that divine blood while Volkihar vampire was around? Serana was going to have teach her a lesson, preferably in a very painful way.

The Dragonborn, perplexed as to why Serana was suddenly careening toward at her a full speed, could only get out a surprised yelp when the Volkihar heiress shoved her sideways, making her crash into the floor but successfully out of reach of Alva.

The other vampire appeared surprised to say the least, even more so when the fuming Serana reeled her free arm back, and sent her fist directly into her jaw.

Head snapping sideways, Alva met the floor with a thud, hissing in outrage.

"That was a neat little trick you pulled there." Serana spat at her, reaching for the hilt of her Elven dagger as she descended upon the lesser vampire.

Straddling her and grasping the woman by the front of her corset, Serana slammed the other vampire into the floorboards, causing her to choke on her already stolen breath.

"W-wait! W-!" Alva pleaded desperately, cut short by the blade of Serana's dagger plunging into her chest, right through her dead heart.

With a croak, Alva went limp beneath Serana, who reclaimed her weapon now slick with blackish blood.

And then, the door of the cottage banged open, two fully armored guards standing there, illuminated by the weak light of the moon.

"Uhm.. it's not what it looks like?" Serana heard the Dragonborn utter breathlessly, still on ground.

Let's just say.. they wouldn't be returning to Morthal any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I feel like the ending is just.. kinda dragging here. Sorry. I'm ashamed to admit that I have been working on this for almost a month. I was hyped to write it for Halloween, but then I got too occupied to actually work on it and now.. bleh. I hope you enjoyed regardless, thank you everyone**


	7. Languages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry this one is kinda short. I couldn't find a chapter to fit it into, so here it is, in it's 1,000 word glory.**

Serana sat cross-legged, a weathered volume of _Morning Star_ in hand, red eyes half open and skimming over the same exact sentence she had been looking at for the past hour. Or at least, she thinks it has been an hour. This history book was so stale, it was hard to tell how much time she spent struggling by each brain-numbing paragraph.

With a barely audible, drained sigh, the vampire lifted her gaze from the bland reading material upward. Serana would consider herself quite the bookworm, but this volume she held was about as interesting as watching ink dry. With a grimace, the vampire carefully clamped the old history tome shut, and laid it on the frostbitten dirt beside her.

The fire just a little ways in front of her had dimmed to give off a soothing orange glow, the smallest of flames still flickering hungrily over a charred tangle of twigs. It wasn't like _she_ needed the light, but the warmth pricking at her naturally icy skin was a pleasant sensation, and it did illuminate the Dragonborn who rested in a similar position on the other side of it in a sort of flattering way.

Unaware of the soft smile curling her lips, Serana focused on the woman rather than the completely boring book she had set by her feet. The quiet chatter of the night was joined by the routine _sching_ of said mortal's ebony blade being scraped by a whetstone. Up into the latest hours of evening the mortal had been maintaining her weapon, sharpening and cleaning its already razor edges with a restless energy.

Despite their entire day consisting of walking miles and miles of roads through forests and grasslands, the mortal showed no sign of fatigue, or maybe she was just in that state where she was so deliriously tired, that she refused to feel tired anymore? If there was anyone Serana knew that could wrestle their own exhaustion into submission, it was that woman.

With fond shake of her head, Serana tilted it back to gaze into the sky. Skyrim's midnight colors were quite beautiful, especially so far north that they were, a light-show of purples, blues, and greens shimmering along with the stars. She admired the brilliant glow of the half-moon too, no matter how dully it stung her sensitive eyes.

Not a few seconds into her stargazing, Serana nearly jerked in surprise when the periodic grinding of the stone and metal stopped, broken by a muffled Dunmeri curse.

Her red eyes darted to the source of it, the mortal across from her who had dropped the whetstone with a muted thump. She gripped her sword by its handle facing outward, her newly-freed hand splayed open. The vampire could see a paper-thin red line slashed across the mortal's palm, a bead of tantalizing red slipping into the crook of her thumb.

Sensing the gaze upon her, the mortal's bashful eyes rose to meet Serana's. "I just.. nicked myself.. with the sword." She explained in a subdued voice, then a weary sigh as she placed her weapon aside: "I'm too tired to be doing this."

"Then go to sleep." Serana offered in a huff, watching as the mortal gathered the weighted stone in her injured hand to slip it into the mouth of her enchanted bag.

"I'm a raving insomniac, and sleep is for the weak." The Dragonborn retorted dryly, shifting her legs out from underneath herself to stretch. With a grunt, she leaned her body forward and reached for her toes. The vampire heard several joints pop, watching with furrowed brows.

 _Insomnia?_ Serana couldn't help but worry about the mortal's difficulty to find rest. Once or twice Serana had caught the Dragonborn in her most vulnerable state, so she _did_ sleep.

 _Not often enough_ , Serana thought to herself as she observed the mortal. The Dragonborn's movements were sluggish and her eyes were dull with exhaustion, but of course, she stubbornly refused to sleep. One day, Serana thought she might just punch her unconscious to force her to get some well-needed rest.

Finished with her fidgeting, the Dragonborn pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping only one arm around them. She had her other hand lifted, palm open and burning with an angelic golden glow.

The action struck Serana with a thought. When the mortal had cut herself she threw a Dunmeri curse. She almost always resorted to Dunmeri when she wasn't speaking directly to anyone, a curious habit the vampire had pondered over for weeks. Perhaps now was a perfect time to sate her curiosity.

"Is Dunmeri your first language?" The mortal spoke Nordic well enough, but her voice did have that little lilt of second, more complicated language.

The Dragonborn's arm lowered with the dismissal of the healing spell, draping over the tops of her knees. "Yes, actually."

Well, if the mortal didn't want to sleep, maybe she wanted talk instead.

"Were you raised by Dunmer?" Serana pressed on. The Dragonborn had already mentioned her uncertainty about her heritage, but she had to have been influenced by _someone_.

Thankfully, the mortal was in chatty mood, or just willing to do anything to distract herself from how exhausted she was. "Mm, yes, I was. I have not a clue who my birth parents were, but my first surrogate father was a man named Enos." Serana listened with a quirk at the corners of her lips; she was finally learning something about her withdrawn companion.

The Dragonborn was in a completely different world, amber eyes distant as she spoke. "He was Dunmer, but it's been so long that I can hardly recall his facial features.." Her tone was a melancholy one, blinking slowly before giving her head a light shake. "Anyway, he only spoke Dunmeri, so I was raised to learn the same."

It saddened Serana, to suspect that something terrible must have happened to this man the Dragonborn spoke so affectionately of, if she had been left to fend for herself at only eight years old. The Dragonborn did not need her pity, Serana knew, so she kept it to herself.

"Who did you learn Nordic from, then?" The vampire inquired with a genuine interest that provoked a faint smile from the mortal. She didn't appear very bothered by the sudden round of questions, something Serana was very grateful for.

The Dragonborn exhaled heavily, citing off her next words like they had been drilled directly into her brain and regurgitated back up frequently.

"Theodyn Endell, Archmage of High Rock." For the first time since their conversation had started, the mortal looked directly at Serana, her expression exasperated as well as nostalgic. "His wife was a Dunmer, and she spoke Dunmeri, so it wasn't that hard to integrate into the family... but Mother _insisted_ that my new siblings and I learned at least one other language."

 _Mother._ The split-second image of Valerica flashing in her conscious almost made Serana scowl. They were talking about the Dragonborn's family here, not Serana's terribly dysfunctional one. The vampire held the seal on her inner turmoil, hoping her face was as forthcoming as she felt it was. "Do you often get the two of them mixed up?"

The mortal broke out in a full-on grin this time, though it lasted only a few seconds. "What do you think?" She retorted, lifting the hand she had just accidentally cut. "Especially when I'm flustered, my brain just switches back to Dunmeri."

"Please," Serana puffed with a friendly roll of her eyes, the Dragonborn observing her with a flash of honest confusion. "I find it quite charming, when you're flustered, that is."

By now, the pathetic cluster of flames that had been fighting to stay alight between them had faded, leaving only the occasional crack of red-hot embers to outline the silhouette of the mortal. Serana had no use for the dying light source, but the mortal peered across their tiny campsite to her with narrowed eyes.

The vampire brightened at the second breathless chuckle she had managed to get out of the usually stoic mortal woman that night. "So you like seeing me make a fool of myself, then? Gee, th-" Whatever else she had to say was cut short by a yawn, the Dragonborn clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

The light was scarce, but Serana was certain the mortal could feel the I-told-you-so look she was giving her. "You should go to sleep."

Smothered by her palm, the mortal's answer was a unintelligible grumble as she unraveled herself to ease onto the bedroll she had been sitting on. The Dragonborn laid herself on her back, legs together and stiff as a board, and her arms folding backward to rest underneath her head. "Fine," She agreed unwillingly, but with a drop of a hat her tone shifted into a completely sincere one: "Thank you, Serana, for listening."

Taken aback, the vampire's lips pursed into an o. "Oh! Uh, yea, any time." She promised, the stillness of her heart threatening to flutter at the almost amorous smile the mortal had let grace her mouth.

It dimmed along with the mortal's consciousness the further she lost herself into sleep, leaving Serana in silence.


	8. Nightmares Part 1

It was barely dusk, the cluster of trees looming far above the forest floor shielding the mortal and vampire from the warm reddish-orange tinge of the sky left by the retreating sun. The late evening ambiance had already begun, a mingled sing-song of nocturnal birds, animals, and the rustle of the firs' needles in the biting wind.

The ache of an entire day of travelling beneath the blinding gleam of sunlight fading from her bones, Serana sat cross-legged, somewhere in between a haze of exhaustion and lucidity. The sunlight felt as if it fried her brain along with her energy.

She was frustratingly tired, something she shared with the long-asleep mortal, yet she had jumped on the proposition of taking first watch. Serana could refresh herself in a more.. bloody, though less time consuming way.

The Dragonborn had agreed to this by throwing her bedroll to the ground, and collapsing face-first into it with a muffled groan. A fire had not even been set, only an empty ring of stones and a single chunk of wood served as the center to their hastily-made campsite.

So here the vampire sat, chin resting in the palm of her right hand, half-lidded red eyes combing the darkening surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. The moment the final sliver of light was swallowed by the edge of the horizon, she had plans on leaving.

Not leaving,  _leaving_ , of course. It would simply be a short visit to the nearest bandit camp or isolated river-side cabin the vampire would come across to sate the thirst pricking at the back of her throat. The mortal would be completely fine for an hour or so alone.. hopefully.

Serana's attention flitted momentarily to the unconscious woman.

The Dragonborn had found the half-asleep will to roll herself over; she was on her back, one arm draped over her stomach, the other's hand cradling the back of her head. Much like her awake self, she remained eerily quiet, only the subtle rise and fall of her chest signalling that she still walked.. or more technically laid the land of the living.

The vampire's eyes lingered even longer on the sleeping mortal's face.

She wore such an expression of serenity, a welcome change from the monotonous ruse the woman tried to pass off on Serana. She was no Dwemer machine. She felt emotion, as much as she attempted to stamp any trace of it out. She was just so.. so..

 _Stubborn._  Serana's drained mind supplied for her as she blinked languidly, looking away to resume her guard duty. She was too tired right now to start with  _that_  tirade.

She was left in peace for an unidentifiable amount of time, looking upward past the canopy of fir needles to the sky, at least until a new sound cut in. It was a nervous, shuffling noise.

Serana's gaze instantly jerked from the shadowed treeline, scanning the area for any intruders. When she found none, her immediate instinct was to look to her only companion, the Dragonborn. The mortal woman's face was scrunched up and her eyes screwed shut tightly.

She was at the mercy of whatever played out behind them, and with the help of her inhuman vision, Serana could make out the beginnings of sweat gathering on her brow. Fingers curled and uncurled, grasping for an anchor where her hand splayed over her middle, and the thin line her lips had locked themselves into broke to mumble out half-spoken words.

Was she.. was she having a nightmare?

"What the..?" The vampire whispered, her own brow furrowing in worry. Another jerk from the mortal stirred the vampire to take action. Serana untangled herself to drop forward and slink toward the Dragonborn.

The mortal continued to twitch, her mental turmoil shown the more severe her expression grew. She breathed in sharply, and her legs gave a slight lurch.

Serana paused in her tracks, hovering over the woman with her hands timidly held outward.

A nightmare, the mortal was having a nightmare, and Serana was having an internal crisis. What was she supposed to do?  _How_  was she supposed to do this? Gently prod the woman into consciousness, or force her awake as quickly as possible?

The pained gasp that escaped the Dragonborn next spurred the vampire's outstretched hands into moving, gripping the mortal by her shoulders through her writhing as she warred with something in her dreams. She must have been experiencing something quite terrible, for it to incite this much a reaction from the usually steadfast woman.

So, Serana went with her second option. Toughening her grip, the vampire brought herself level to the mortal's ear and shouted her name.

It worked well, the mortal got up. Too well. The mortal was startled awake with a frankly adorable squeaking noise that would have had Serana grinning like a fool, if not for the fact that the woman had shot up right into her face.

The mortal's nose collided with Serana's, setting off an explosion of stars and blackness in the vampire's vision.

Serana's hands immediately moved to clap over her face, lurching to her feet and hissing a string of curses that would have mortified Valerica into Oblivion.

Though, through her two palms it came out more as a muffled, incoherent scream, blood from her shattered nose already pooling into them and slipping past her fingers.

The Dragonborn, knocked flat on her back by the same collision, voiced her pain in a more subdued way. Her entire body seemed to curl in on itself with the effort of biting back her own scream, knees drawn to her chest and hands in a similar position to Serana's over her nose. The only sound she made was a mixture of confusion and misery in the form of a gasp, amber eyes wide and unfocused.

Their glassiness cleared a split-second later, recognition flashing. Serana peered down to the mortal through watery eyes and a clenched jaw, unable to form words due to the scorching tightness of her throat. Stray tears slid free of her lashes and streamed down her cheeks while the vampire fought to recollect herself.

The Dragonborn recovered first and spoke, her following words thick and sounding a little nasally through the blood currently creating a sea in the cusps of her hands.

"Serana? W-what happened?" Tears had begun to stain the mortal's face as well, pulled by gravity down the sides of her head to drip to the ground.

Serana had to inhale heavily for the breath her crying lungs were begging her to take, before she was able to reply.

"You.. you were having-" Too much, too much talking  _hurt_. The vampire breathed in shakily for a second time, rivets of red escaping from the spaces between her fingers and creating trails down her wrists. "A nightmare, I tried to wake you and.."

Her legs wobbled dangerously with the stress of the dizzying pain, so the vampire allowed herself to fall to her knees before the Dragonborn with another soft gasp.

The Dragonborn winced along with her. That heavenly blood of hers was gushing from her face just as badly as the vampire's, and Serana was eternally grateful that her sense was smell was clogged by her own, because by the  _Gods_  there was a lot of it and she wasn't sure she would have been able to control herself otherwise.

The Dragonborn groaned something under her breath, uncoiling her body to transfer herself onto her side.

"I'm so sorry, Serana," She gasped shortly afterward, blinking rapidly to rid herself of the fresh tears gathering in her eyes. "This hurts a lot." She whimpered, sounding more miserable than Serana had ever thought possible.

Serana could do nothing but nod weakly in agreement, tasting the coppery tang of her blood by sweeping the tip of her tongue over her top lip. There was  _so_  much; this was complete disaster.

Why hadn't she just woken the mortal the normal way? The normal way involved their faces not slamming into each other.

"No, no.." The vampire managed to throw together between heaving breaths, "It's my own fault for waking you like I did." All the mortal offered was a short grunt of acknowledgement, seemingly consoled.

Thankfully, the intensity of Serana's discomfort had faded with time, how much of it she spent kneeling in front of the Dragonborn, who writhed on the ground occasionally groaning out a curse or two, the vampire was not sure. Blood continued to pour from her nose, though not as vigorously as it had before, when the vampire felt a reassuring sense of control wash over her.

The pain was bearable now. She really wanted to get this blood off her face and hands.

Unsteadily, the vampire drug herself to her feet, freeing a single hand from its place over her mouth and nose. She brought her palm eye-level, grimacing when was she was met with was completely soaked a dark red.

She found the very substance appetizing, but at the moment her skin was practically crawling with disgust. Who wouldn't feel disturbed with their own blood splattered all over themselves?

Serana dejectedly let her raised hand fall to her side.

"Can you stand?" She questioned the mortal, who had stopped whining to herself some time ago, but still laid sprawled out sullenly on the forest floor, both of her hands still held protectively over her nose.

Her eyes brightened with clarity to meet Serana's at the sound of the vampire's voice.

"You look like a mess." Was what she received in return in an entirely deadpan tone.

Serana rolled her eyes, her smile half hidden by her bloodied palm. She thrust her empty hand forward, crimson-covered and open.

"Looking pretty awful down there yourself," The Dragonborn appeared as if she had adopted the life of a cannibal in the past several minutes, with all that red on her face. "Come on, we should.. fix this."

Her nose may have been broken, but the vampire's ears did not lie to her about the gentle gurgle of a nearby stream.

The Dragonborn accepted the gesture with an equally blood-sodden palm, letting herself be led without resistance to the edge of the campsite.

The vampire blindly led the mortal by the hand into the brush and the general direction she heard the trickle of water.

Her nose had stopped bleeding, but Serana could not stand the feeling of it coating her, she probably  _did_  look as wretched as the mortal had claimed.

The purr of the stream was louder now, probably enough so that the mortal could detect it too, the crunch of snow underfoot trailing the two women throughout the journey.

"Thank you, Serana," The mortal suddenly spoke behind her in a slightly tearful voice, "For.. uh, waking me that is, not for hitting me in the face... with your face."

Serana felt the Dragonborn's grip tighten in her own, and would have found it comforting, if not for the blood slicking the both of them almost causing the woman's hand to slip loose.

The vampire frowned only because the mortal would not be able to see it. What must have been going through her mind, to scare her like that? The Dragonborn was dauntless, heroic, and fought each battle as if she thought herself to be invincible, what she could possibly been having a nightmare of all things over?

She wouldn't pressure the woman into speaking to her about it. Her decision to share would be just that, hers.

"It was no problem." Serana assured the mortal, pulling her occupied hand away to push back a tangle of bushes blocking the way. The stream was close now, the vampire could faintly see the gleam of the moon shining off the surface of the moving water in the corner of her vision. She was eager to wash this blood off.

They finally emerged from the trees to step onto the gravelly banks of a small river, its water ice-cold and crisp and momentarily tainted by a cloud of red that was whisked out of sight by its current.

After ridding themselves of the blood, Serana and the Dragonborn returned to their scant campsite. The mortal settled herself back into her original spot, offering no complaints when Serana placed herself quite close to her side. In fact, she seemed pleased with the gesture, a sparingly short curve on her lips she as faced the unlit fire pit.

The Dragonborn thrust her hand forward, a jet of orange flames spewing from her palm and setting the wood ablaze. She then reached for her travel bag while the newly made campfire crackled and spit embers.

"Do you drink, Serana?" The woman asked of her, her forearm disappearing completely into the enchanted depths of the bag.

The vampire blinked at the unexpected question, unable to reply before the mortal spoke again.

The Dragonborn shook her head slowly side to side. "I'm sorry, I actually meant," Her arm tensed, as if she had finally gotten a hold of what she was digging for in the endlessness of the bag. "Can you drink?" She inquired, pulling free a full bottle of Alto wine and grasping it by the neck of the bottle.

Serana blinked again when the mortal raised her tired eyes to her own red ones.

Yes, she could, and she quite liked wine to be honest. She may not have been able to get any energy from it, but at least she could still taste it.

Still, Serana wasn't exactly a fan of drinking until she was stuttering, stumbling mess, but she enjoyed the pleasant numbness it brought about. Was the mortal really suggesting this.. now? In the middle of a forest?

But... Serana found that she really was not too opposed to the idea. If she accepted, this could be considered another milestone for their friendship: getting drunk in the snowy wilderness of Skyrim together.

"Yes, I can." The vampire answered with a charmed smile, and the mortal woman's gaze darted to the bottle she held.

"What are you suggesting?" Serana went on when the woman remained silent.

The Dragonborn shrugged at her, gingerly touching her nose. "It will dull the pain." She reasoned, and Serana nodded to herself, almost lifting her own hand to her face.

The mortal looked back to Serana, her free hand returning to her side. "I don't have any cups," She confessed apologetically, pausing.

Serana spoke before she could continue, a curve upon her lips. "I don't mind sharing."

"I won't get any of your vampire cooties by doing this, will I?" The Dragonborn retorted in a teasing tone, using her thumb to pop the bottle's cork free. It spun off to the ground and out of sight, and Serana figured that the woman did not plan to let one drop of the drink to go to waste then.

She offered the Alto wine to the vampire.

Serana nearly snorted with laughter, stopping herself only when she felt a threatening, sharp twinge in her already sore nose. Flashing her teeth in a grin, she accepted the drink, fingers curling around its neck just below the Dragonborn's. The vampire was hoping for their skin to brush when the mortal pulled away.

"Cooties? Really? It doesn't work like that." She returned sharply, though her tone was airy with amusement.

The vampire lifted the opening of the bottle to her mouth, savoring the sour tang of the wine touching her tongue, and leaving a fiery trail down her throat. She hummed approvingly as it settled in her hollow stomach, and eyes closed, she presented the wine to the Dragonborn on her right.

She heard only a short huff from the mortal woman in response to her barb, feeling the wine being removed her hold.

Silence settled, a companionable silence as the two of them passed the quickly emptying bottle back and forth, until the last sliver of alcohol was swallowed by the Dragonborn, and she set it on the earth beside her clumsily.

Serana was dully feeling its affects at this point, the ache of her once busted, though rapidly healing nose forgotten.

The Dragonborn returned to her previous position laid out on her back without a word, hands folded primly against her stomach. Her eyes closed, and any sense of abashment she would have drowned in Alto wine, Serana's own began tracing every detail of her unknowing face as the mortal's expression smoothed out once more.

The vampire wondered if she had ever  _looked_  at someone as closely as she did the mortal.

The vampire also wondered if it was strange how much she desired to touch the mortal at the moment. To chart every edge of her cheekbones, her touch gliding over that cute little mole under her left eye, or feel the softness of each curve her lips beneath the tips of her fingers. To maybe even plant the touch of her own lips upon her forehead, or thread through each silk-like strand of her hair-

When the woman suddenly piped up, albeit in a sleepy and alcohol-induced daze, Serana startled, resisting the immediate reaction to look away.

"Have I ever mentioned how strange it is that your eyes glow in the dark?" The Dragonborn drawled, only her left eye, the one with that  _cute little mole_  under it barely open and peering up the vampire.

Serana snapped them shut, drowning herself in darkness. She would be blushing if she were still capable of such a thing. "No, I don't believe you have."

* * *

Serana was a cuddler, apparently.

Normally when the Dragonborn awoke and the first thing she felt was another body on top of her own, she would have shot upright while clocking her assailant in the jaw.

This time, she only experienced a little jolt of panic, before registering just how.. soft  _and_  cold whatever was pressing into her was. She felt arms wrapped around her like she was a child's stuffed toy, the push and pull of someone's breathing, and things were clear to her.

A dull headache, left by the wine from the slightly hazy night before, throbbed in her temple as the Dragonborn opened her eyes. She instantly winced when the morning sunlight greeted her, filtering through the fir needles and leaves overhead.

Blinking while her vision adjusted, the Dragonborn sighed, though it was hindered by the weight pressed into her chest and stomach.

She was positive she knew just who had decided to use her as a pillow, but the woman confirmed it anyway by letting her gaze drift downward.

It  _was_  Serana, sprawled almost completely over her, one of the vampire's arms snaked behind her neck, and the other draped across her middle. The vampire's cheek rested over her collar, her head fit snugly in crook of the Dragonborn's neck.

The Dragonborn found that all she could feel at the moment was vague shock, and an even vaguer sense of security. Usually she did not appreciate physical closeness, but this.. she did not mind this. She was not entirely sure why.

It wasn't  _un_ pleasant, exactly, just.. strange. Strangely comforting, that was. Eyes half lidded, the woman felt her expression twist as she stared blankly up at the sky through the trees.

Serana made her feel safe. She trusted Serana. Was that it? Was that why her skin did not crawl whenever they invaded each other's personal space from time to time?

The woman exhaled again, allowing her heavy eyelids to fall. Between this headache, these intruding emotions, and her exhaustion, she did not have the energy to ponder it. It wasn't as if she could do anything about her current situation anyway.

Serana wasn't squeezing the life out of her, but the vampire's grip was firm enough that she didn't have the motivation to even fight her for her freedom. Both of her arms were trapped against her own sides, and trying to extract herself from Serana's hold would probably wake the vampire.

No, she was content with this. She needed the rest, anyways. She'd let Serana deal with this embarrassingly intimate position they were in when the vampire finally woke.

* * *

When that  _did_  happen, the Dragonborn was able to take pride in her ability to fake unconsciousness. She came dangerously close to cracking a smile, letting her eyebrows twitch, or bursting into uncontrollable laughter all in the same moment that Serana realized that she was cuddling her like she was a well-loved teddy bear.

The pleased purr that rolled from the vampire's throat was soon followed by a hysterical: " _Euugh!_ " Serana jerked away, her arms slipping from the Dragonborn and leaves, twigs, and snow crunching as the vampire rolled off of her.

The Dragonborn waited several long seconds before pretending to stir, and she heard Serana gasp faintly above her.

Pressing her palms into the bed roll beneath her, she pulled herself upright, opened her eyes, and turned in the direction that she thought the vampire to be.

Serana's red eyes were as wide as a Khajiit's on Moon Sugar, her lips pursed, but also pressed together in a line. She looked disconcerted, and in other words, unbearably endearing.

The Dragonborn managed to keep her expression blank, maybe slightly bewildered, she hoped, and feigned sleepiness in her voice when she asked: "What's wrong?"

Serana blinked at her rapidly, and lifted her fingers towards her face to nervously brush away a lock of her black hair.

"W-wrong? Nothing's wrong," The vampire replied hastily, her eyes darting to the side.

The Dragonborn was really struggling to keep a straight face. She could not wait to bring this incident up later.

* * *

It was happening again.

This time, the mortal was in the safety of an inn's walls, alone in that tiny bed occupying the small room. But not even the wood between them could have blocked out the subtle noises of unconscious distress that Serana had forced herself to become keen to detecting.

The creak of the furniture's flimsy structure, the muffled whimpers, and the rapidly soaring pulse of the mortal's heartbeat drilled into the vampire's head like the point of a pickaxe, immediately having her shoot upright from her own dozing to pierce the wall in front of her with a grim frown.

 _Just what could be haunting her?_  The vampire pondered inwardly as she rose to her feet, approaching the door of her separate room. Twisting the handle, Serana only opened it slightly, peering into the dimly lit building.

The owner of the inn remained at his counter, though his eyes were closed and he leaned into the palm of the arm he had propped up on the bar. Only one other man was present, face down in his half-eaten horker steak and snoring softly.

Good. She did not wish to give off the wrong impression, if someone were to see her sneaking into another person's room in the dead of the night.

She did wince when she forced the gap of the door even further and the hinges squeaked, but it went unnoticed to the supposedly asleep mortal men and she slipped through. Moving as fluidly and silently as a shadow, Serana stepped up to the room adjacent to her own, tilting her ear to it.

The sounds of discomfort continued, accompanied by the unusually frantic beat of the mortal's heart.

Serana pressed her lips together, wrapping her hands around the door's handle and feeling a sharp pang right in the center of her chest. She couldn't stand to think of the mortal hurting in any way; she had to put a stop to this.

The vampire squeezed into the small, pitch black room, its insides tinted a grayish hue due to the assistance of her night vision. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the bed that took up most of its space, where the Dragonborn laid on her side, her knees nearly touching her chest.

Though she was not given much room to work with, Serana approached the mortal's bedside, gaze locked on the sleeping woman's pained expression and knitted eyebrows.

Just what could she have been dreaming about? Unfortunately, Serana could not claim that she knew this woman as well as she would have liked to; her past was mostly a mystery, the mortal shrouding herself in an airtight protection of elusiveness.

Would asking her be too overbearing, too personal? Did she trust Serana enough to share, if the vampire did dare to ask? It was disheartening.. because Serana strove to be that important of a person to the Dragonborn.

The vampire let her outstretched hand descend onto the woman, grabbing her shoulder. She worried her bottom lip for a couple of seconds, before jostling the mortal gently.

The Dragonborn shuddered at the touch, one corner of her mouth twitching.

Serana attempted to wake her once more with another nudge, leaning over the mortal despite the very painful bloody nose she had received for doing such a thing the first time this had happened.

At last, the woman startled awake, but in a much more drastic way than the vampire had been expecting.

It was only her superhuman reflexes that saved Serana from the fist that had been going directly for her the moment the Dragonborn regained consciousness, genuine panic alighting her amber eyes.

Serana was deeply disturbed, firstly because of the woman's automatic instinct to lash out, and secondly because she had never seen the mortal wearing such a terrified expression, and it was aimed  _right_  at her.

"Hey, hey, it's just me _._ " The vampire tried to soothe the currently hysterical woman in a whisper, whose curled fist remained in the center of her own palm.

Gasping, the Dragonborn weakly struggled to reclaim her hand, and Serana quickly released her seeing the only worsening fear written all over her face.

The mortal sat with her legs tucked underneath her, shrinking into the wall behind her and chest heaving.

Serana was aghast with herself, the mortal had been looking up at with her such horror, an emotion that the vampire was well acquainted with.. but from this woman... it was wrong, it should not  _ever_  be there.

The vampire hastily tried to put as much distance between herself and the woman, hands held up in surrender, even knowing to the mortal she would most likely be nothing more than a female-shaped silhouette looming at her bedside... or a pair of menacingly glowing red eyes.

The Dragonborn's gaze, once hazy with dismay, widened with recognition after several trembling breaths had left her. "Serana?" She uttered in a meek voice, one on the verge of tears.

Serana nodded, but realizing the woman would not be able to see it, replied in a gentle tone: "Yes, it's me."

The mortal seemed to relax at the sound of her words, the tension coiling her shoulders lessening, and they fell. She picked her splayed palms off the wall, wrapping her arms around her torso and letting out another unsteady breath.

Timidly, Serana came nearer, falling to her knees at the edge of the bed to be relatively eye-level with the shaken woman. "Do you mind me asking.." The Dragonborn's jaded eyes darted in her direction when she spoke, and the vampire faltered. This was the moment of fate, would she actually confide in the vampire? "...what you're dreaming about?"

"I.. I dream about my childhood." The mortal confessed brokenly, clutching herself tighter.

Serana was pleasantly surprised at her willingness to speak, quailing even closer to reach out to the woman if the urge ever came over her. "When you were in High Rock.. or..?"

"Before that," The Dragonborn cut in almost desperately, swallowing thickly afterward. "Enos tried his best.. but," The mortal's lungs filled with another trembling breath, her eyes becoming unfocused. "...but he did not have the power to protect me from everything.. or everyone."

 _She was just a child.._  Whatever shreds of delight she had been experiencing were crushed after the words settled in Serana's head. Dread completely iced every inch of her being, lips parted with disgust.

The Dragonborn had never visibly seemed bothered by Serana touching her.

Bewilderment flushed her thoughts, recalling the now careless hands that she had laid on the Dragonborn in the past. She desperately wished to take them all back right now, if that contact had caused the woman discomfort.

"It's been almost twenty years, Serana," The Dragonborn went on cynically, untangling her crossed arms to ball up her fists and rest them over the tops of her thighs. "But I can still... remember. I remember everything."

 _Well, you've gotten what you wanted Serana, are you happy now?_  Her conscious remarked bitterly, and the vampire clenched her teeth to bite back a growl.

Was it.. was it too much to hope that instead of an instigator of unpleasant memories, Serana's touch had been comforting instead?

Red eyes fell and sought the darkness for the mortal's lap, where both of her hands lay. Serana let her touch fall upon the mortal once more, palm draped over one of the woman's fists. She did not tense, she did not try to pull away. Was it true?

"I'm.."  _Sorry?_  No, not sorry, the Dragonborn did not require her pity, and this weakness she had revealed to the vampire certainly didn't make her appear any less in Serana's eyes. If anything, Serana admired her bravery for being able to tell her. "I'm here." She stated firmly, squeezing the woman in her grasp.

The Dragonborn's expression went slack, blank, as if she had not been expecting anything other than a paltry "sorry" for her troubles. Slowly, a tiny, but grateful smile graced her previously frowning lips.

"I know." She acknowledged through a sigh, momentarily confusing the vampire as she slipped free from her hold, but soon she returned their hands together, intertwining her fingers into Serana's. "Thank you, Serana."

 _Thank you._  It was then that Serana felt a swell in her chest, heavy, like a punch to her stomach that took the air from her lungs. She could have cried if she if were a woman of weaker resolve, but they wouldn't have been tears of sorrow,  _definitely_  not.

The vampire's eyes darted downward to their entangled hands, and she swallowed thickly before asking: "Do you want me to stay?"

"...Yes." The Dragonborn admitted quietly, and Serana was grateful that the darkness of the room hid the ridiculous smile she broke into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **If this chapter didn't make it obvious, yes, my Dragonborn has been physically/sexually abused in her childhood.**


	9. Nightmares Part 2

It was seldom that she dreamed, given the fact that she rarely ever needed to sleep.

When Serana  _did_  sleep, it was usually a deep, thoughtless rest, so unlike what she was experiencing now.

It looked like Nirn, this desolate, dark place, but it was not. The ground was black sludge, the air was beyond freezing, and its horizon was littered with the silhouettes of barred metal cages. In the distance, she could hear the chilling moans of the soulless husks that inhabited this place, enslaved mortals that had been ensnared by..  _him_.

Molag Bal _._  How was that he invaded her dreams, even after all of this time? Yes, he was the patron of her vampirism; he was the sole reason she was even here, alive after thousands of years, but  _why_? Why wouldn't he.. just.. leave.. her… alone..?

Serana could create new memories; she could suppress those that hurt her, and cherish those that brought her joy. But things that she could train her mind to forget, her body would remember for her.

Her body would remember the desperation, the pain, and the cold, cold breath hissing through the teeth of the menacing skull looming over her. Her body would remember the sensation of dying after this torment, the moment her life left her body.

She could remember how she never wanted this, how she only wanted a normal family, how she only wanted normal parents, how she only wanted a normal life..!—

"Serana?"

She… she could remember that voice, too.

"Serana?" The voice spoke again, and she felt herself being physically jarred from unconsciousness.

Serana gladly let the hand that was jostling her shoulder drag her from her own dreams, a sharp gasp escaping her and her head snapping forward from where it rested against the back of a cushioned chair.

Next, Serana opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the Dragonborn.

The other woman looked cute in those College mage robes, her hood drawn back and draped over her shoulders, and a smudge of what was probably ash smeared over one of her cheeks. She must have been helping her friend, the Dunmer, with experiments again.

The mortal would have been even cuter, looking at Serana with pouted lips, if those lips were not pursed due to the concerned expression that she wore. She was also very blurry at the moment.

This problem was quickly resolved by the vampire blinking rapidly several times, the action letting quite a few large tears run down her cheeks and drip off her chin.

 _Ah_ , she was crying? Why the hell was she…?

The Dragonborn's brows rose slightly where she continued to hover in front of Serana, and the vampire was struck with a feeling of both irritation and shame.

She despised crying in front of anyone, even the woman to whom she would trust everything to. Tears were signs of weakness, and Serana  _was not weak_.

The mortal woman took a step back, letting her hand fall away, and Serana used her fingers to hastily wipe away the oily trails.

"Is something wrong, Serana?" The woman questioned, as the disoriented vampire scanned her surroundings.

 _Where..?_  Oh. She knew where she was now.

This room was, faintly, drenched in the Dragonborn's scent. It had once been hers, a mere three years ago, but her presence still lingered. She was not in Coldharbour, she was in Nirn, she was in Skyrim, she was in the College of Winterhold.

It was a modestly sized room, a single bed to her right, a wardrobe that covered the entire wall to her left, and the open door just across from her, besides the mortal woman standing in the way of it.

She was in a dorm room, the Dragonborn's old dorm room, in fact. Just how she had managed to fall asleep in this chair, though, the vampire could not explain.

"Serana?" The Dragonborn inquired once again, the vampire jerked slightly as the woman's question finally caught up to her.

"Oh.." She breathed out vapidly, trying to break out of the haze her abrupt awakening had left her with. "It's… it's nothing." Serana delivered with a frown that most likely didn't convince the Dragonborn otherwise.

One of the mortal's brows raised even higher, and Serana averted her gaze from the woman. Unshed tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and she feared making excuses  _and_ trying to stop them would be too much for her handle.

She was becoming very familiar with the sewn design of the lone bed's pillow when the woman spoke again, sounding much closer than she had been before.

"It does not look like 'nothing'." The Dragonborn retorted softly, the tone of her voice just as gentle at the index finger she brushed over Serana's cheek, where the vampire felt the wetness that her tears had created clinging to her skin.

Serana involuntarily shuddered in response to the trail of warmth that the mortal woman's touch left, and she closed her eyes with a shuddering exhale.

Damn her. Serana wanted to confess anything and everything to the woman right then and there.. but she didn't.. she didn't want to talk about this. She wanted to  _forget_  this.

Serana let the silence stretch between them, all while she was missing the comforting weight of the mortal's touch upon her.

She was not sure how long it lasted, before the Dragonborn broke it with a defeated sigh.

"Serana, I want to thank you again for.. that night, that night when I told you about my nightmares. It helped to talk about it with someone, finally." At her words, Serana lifted her eyes to meet the other woman's, and the Dragonborn paused.

She inhaled sharply before continuing. "I want you to feel like you can confide in me, too, but I understand if you don't wish to talk right now."

The other woman flashed her a sad, but kind smile, and then she was turning around to approach the open door.

Serana felt her lower lip wobble, an unbearable pressure building in her chest. It ached, it ached how badly she wanted to purge this worry and pain, and who but the Dragonborn could she trust it to?

The vampire leaped completely out of the chair in her haste to call out: "Wait!"

The Dragonborn stopped at once, pivoting around to look at her.

Serana held her gaze for several seconds, her hands clenched into fists and trembling. She could do this. She was going to do this. The Dragonborn.. deserved to be the first person that she discussed her turning with.

Exhaling heavily to expel some of her stress from her, Serana backed toward the lone bed and dropped onto it, her eyes falling to the stone floor.

"Have I ever told you.. that I am a Daughter of Coldharbour? Do you know what that means?" She asked, unclenching her hands to intertwine her own fingers.

She thought she sensed movement, the Dragonborn perhaps shaking her head side to side, but realizing her diverted attention, the woman replied: "No, to both of those questions."

Serana inhaled through her mouth, and breathed out through her nose, trying to calm the anxiety that was churning in her stomach. She heard footsteps, the Dragonborn's, going towards the door, and the creak of its hinges as it was pulled closed.

The vampire raised her head and tracked the mortal as she went to the other side of the room to grab a nearby chair.

"It means that I am 'pure-blooded'. I was given vampirism directly from Molag Bal." She explained as the Dragonborn approached, carrying the chair with her. The mortal woman set it in front of her, and sat down.

They were now face to face. Now, Serana had to lay her all her vulnerabilities bare to this woman. The vampire and mortal locked eyes, and Serana decided that she would. She  _trusted_ this woman more than anyone.

"I'm listening, Serana." The Dragonborn urged her on, that unexpected gentleness warming her tone.

The vampire broke into a wobbly smile, and turned away so that she faced the wall to her right.

"So.. to become a Daughter of Coldharbour, you have to go through a ritual. It is considered a great honor to be offered to Molag Bal, an honor that is not rejected lightly." Her voice began to quiver at her last few words, and Serana stopped herself to swallow.

"This ritual.." The Dragonborn began at her side, unusually chatty this evening, it seemed. "Did you want to do this? Or did someone make you do it?" She asked this in a tone that indicated how she already knew the answer, and Serana laughed lowly, bitterly, and without humor back at her.

"Father— _Harkon_  learned of Molag Bal, and we became cultists who worshipped the Daedric Prince. He was obsessed with the strength and immortality that Molag Bal promised.. he wanted Mother and I to share it, so that we could become the strongest vampires in all of Tamriel." The vampire closed her eyes, gritting her teeth so fiercely that her skull ached.

Power and status is what Harkon loved more than her, so much that he would throw his daughter into the arms of a Daedric Prince with no regard for her own desires. He was a shallow, selfish man, trying to be more than he really was.

The vampire opened her eyes, and they fell down her entangled hands. Stiffly, she separated her fingers, and closed each of her hands into fists.

"For all his talk of being 'royalty' among vampires.. he is not even pure-blooded like my mother and I. W-we earned our strength, unlike him."

"Serana.." The mortal woman says softly, and Serana felt the beginnings of dread chilling the pits of her stomach. She knew what question was coming next. "What is the ritual?"

Pressing her lips together, Serana got the feeling that she was about to start rambling, and she let herself. It was easier than recounting her own experience.

"The first Daughter of Coldharbour is dated back to the early First Era. Her name was Lamae Beolfag. She was a Nedic virgin who was.. raped by Molag Bal." She cited off as if she was reading straight from a history book, and Serana continued without sparing a look at the Dragonborn's reaction to this information. She did hear the other woman inhale sharply, but the mortal did not interrupt her. "After the ordeal.. Molag Bal shed a drop of blood on her, and left her to die. That night, as her funeral pyre was still burning, she returned as the first pure-blooded vampire."

Serana left the words to hang between them, exhaling so shakily that her entire body trembled.

Seconds later, she hear the creaking of the mortal woman's chair, and sensed her coming closer. Serana looked up just in time to get a face full of the other woman's shoulder, as the Dragonborn draped her arms around her in a hug.

The Dragonborn.. hugging  _her_? Serana thought that this sort of contact would first come the other way around.

She gladly accepted the mortal's touch, sinking a little further into the other woman.

"I admire your bravery, for being able to share with me, Serana." The Dragonborn told her sincerely, her voice vibrating from her chest and into the vampire. "..and I don't mean to be unoriginal, but, I'm here."

Serana somehow discovered the will to flash a weak grin. "That's my line."

The other woman pulled away, her arms slithering off of Serana, and she grasped one of the vampire's hands.

"Hey, will you come somewhere with me?" The mortal asked, and Serana blinked up at her.

"Uh.. sure?" Before she had even finished her response, the Dragonborn was already dragging her to her feet, and Serana found herself being led by the hand out the door, around the circular well of the tower, and to the staircase.

"Where to?" She managed to get out breathlessly as she climbed the stairs with the mortal woman.

The Dragonborn only hummed cheerily in response as they passed through the arch of the doorway, where across the hall was an identical staircase.

While she was willingly towed away, Serana threw a glance to her right to get a look at the room they were hurrying through. There was an actual garden in the middle of it, magelight lanterns hovering over the various alchemic ingredients and blooming flowers.

It was the Arch-Mage's Quarters, she remembered, the Dragonborn had given her a tour of the place when they arrived just a couple of days ago.

Her view of the chambers was cut off as they continued upwards, and Serana faced forward to look at the mortal's back.

Serana wondered if the College had any idea that their Arch-Mage was a vampire.

She shrugged as she was led along, squeezing the other woman's hand in her own due to the action.

It wasn't really her place to reveal Savos Aren's secret; he hadn't bothered her at all since being here, and if he had any interest in turning her mortal companion, he'd had three years to do it, three years before Serana had even met the Dragonborn.

The flight of stairs brought them to a wooden door, where faintly Serana could hear the whistling of the wind coming from the other side.

 _We're going outside?_  The vampire thought to herself as the Dragonborn secured the handle, and pushed the door outward. Serana tilted her head back to gaze at the star-speckled night sky while the mortal carried on with her in tow.

A gentle snow fall was raining upon them, the balcony already coated in a blanket of white and crunching beneath their boots.

The Dragonborn brought her to the bend of the balcony, where two frosted wooden chairs were set, facing the mountains in the distance.

Serana barely felt the mortal disentangle their fingers to lean over one of the chairs and brush its seat clean of snow, in a dissociated haze. She watched the other woman take a step back, and gesture toward the chair.

She wanted her to sit.. here?  _Okay..._ Serana certainly had nothing better to do at the moment, besides wallow in her own self-pity and bitterness.

The vampire lowered into the chair, and she threw a questioning look at the Dragonborn, who stood by her side.

The mortal waved an index finger at her, her other hand held palm-out in the universal "wait here" position.

"I'll be back in one second," She assured the vampire, and disappeared around a nearby corner connecting to the other side of the balcony.

 _What is this woman planning?_  Serana mused as she waited for the mortal's return, crossing her arms over her chest.

True to her word, the Dragonborn reappeared quickly, a bottle of wine in one hand, and two goblets held by their necks in the other.

Serana exhaled through her nose, the corners of her mouth curling weakly.

"You're awfully prepared for this." She commented dryly, accepting the cup that the other woman offered. She gripped it daintily with her fingers, her dead heart warming at the wistful smile that the Dragonborn flashed.

"My sister and I used to come up here. She always had something alcoholic hidden away." The mortal elaborated while pouring Serana a drink, then doing so for herself. Placing the cork back in place, she set the bottle aside on the broad, snow-covered railing in front of them.

 _So this place is special to her. And she brought me here._  The vampire's chest experienced a flutter at that realization, and Serana hid her borderline smug smile by taking a sip, eyes squinted as she looked forward.

Besides that, Serana was a sucker for pretty landscapes, and this was a truly magnificent view. The Dragonborn really did know just how to lift her spirits.

Then, another thought struck her. The Dragonborn's sister. Serana wanted to know more about her, she wanted to know more about the Dragonborn in general, that included family members.

The vampire swallowed, her lips pursed afterwards. "Where.. is your sister?" She asked hesitantly, in an attempt to start conversation.

The mortal hummed briefly to herself, and from the corner of her eye, Serana saw her shift in her chair to cross her legs. "Home. High Rock," She said with her mouth to the rim of her own cup, "Mother convinced her to actually meet her betrothed, and.." She shook with a delightful chuckle, "She was smitten. Last I've heard, they are happily married."

 _How sweet._  Serana had been a little worried that the Dragonborn's sister had perhaps been dead, a morbid thought, but it was the first one that came to mind. But... she was alive. And  _married_.

The vampire frowned into her drink, the alcohol prickling over her top lip. The question escaped her without her even realizing.

"Do you think you'll ever get married?" She spoke in an absentminded tone, but as soon as her own words sunk into her brain, Serana jolted in her seat.

It was literally verbal vomit, spilling from her scatterbrained conscious. She had definitely not meant to say that aloud, but given how emotionally raw she was at the moment  _and_  the wine.. well there wasn't much she could do to stop herself.

The Dragonborn's response was surprisingly casual, and succinct. "No. I don't think so. That life is not for me."

 _Oh._  The vampire shrunk a little in her chair, fingers tightening around the neck of her goblet. Not interested in marriage, then. It was a relief, actually. Now Serana just had to figure out whether the Dragonborn preferred other women or not.

"Me.. neither." She said back quietly, trying to diffuse her own awkwardness by gulping down more of her wine.

The lull that fell between them could have been unpleasant, but miraculously, it was not. There was just something about the Dragonborn that felt..  _companionable_  when they simply sat in silence near each other.

When her cup was finally empty, Serana turned toward the other woman.

"Tivoli?" She asked, the mortal's name rolling off of her tongue so sweetly. There was also something so intimidate about speaking her name, Serana realized.

The Dragonborn looked at her, one of her eyebrows quirked.

"Thank you." The vampire said sincerely.

The mortal gave her a warm, affectionate smile, a real one that curled both sides of her mouth. "Of course, Serana." She broke their gaze, sounding rather sheepish when she added: "Anything for you."

Serana's free hand lifted to rest over her unbeating heart, and she couldn't hold back the stupid grin that she felt forming.

She was surely the luckiest vampire in all of Nirn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yup. That's her name. Free cookie to anyone who can tell me where I got it from.  
>  Also, I swear I'm losing my mind. I thought Savos Aren was a vampire, but I can't find anything on the Wiki confirming it?**  
> Update: So he's not. Pfft. Oh well, he is in this story now I guess.


	10. Inigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **There's this Skyrim companion mod on the forums called Inigo by CDCooley, which puts this Khajiit companion in Riften jails that you can recruit. Personally, I think this mod is the best out of them all. Inigo has such a vibrant personality and the voice acting is done incredibly well. I really recommend that you try this mod out sometime if you can, Inigo is a close second to best Skyrim companion in my opinion. Serana will always be number one, of course.  
>  I wouldn't really consider this chapter canon to the story, it was just something I wanted to write for fun, sooo yea.**

"These people seem.. nervous. And that makes me nervous." Serana whispered sideways to her traveling companion, strolling as closely as she could to the other woman as possible over the brine and grime covered walkways of Riften.

The city was nowhere as impressive as the others had been, even Ysgramor's tiny little Windhelm, with their towering brick spires and spotless streets. No, this place was far from what the vampire would consider "nice".

The air smelled of salt and fish, mixed with the ever unpleasant mingled scents of the market on the other side of the canal cutting through the road. The peoples' chatter was too hushed, as if they suspected they were being listened in on no matter where they were, and their expressions were constantly guarded and full of suspicion. Serana felt as if every single person that passed her by was about to either plunge a dagger in her back or make a grab for her valuables.

She was extremely uncomfortable, eyes constantly searching their surroundings to maintain tabs on every being that moved.

Serana snapped her gaze forward when she felt the mortal next to her nudge her gently with the side of her arm. "Do not worry. They won't try anything." The Dragonborn assured her, a faint smile detectable in her words.

The vampire had to break into her own subdued smirk at that. No, they certainly wouldn't. For once, the Volkihar heiress was not cursing the presence of her mortal friend's rather intimidating helmet, it was actually doing her a favor at the moment.

The Dragonborn walked the streets of Riften fully prepared for battle, adorned from head to toe in armor and a glistening ebony sword on her hip. Naturally, common citizens gave her a wide berth.. well.. except for one brave soul.

Serana's fingers lifted to mess with the rim of her hood, adjusting it so that the sun no longer glared into her eyes. She sighed.

Louis, that was his name right? Well, Louis had asked the most dependable woman in Skyrim for help, and of course, she accepted. Of course the Dragonborn had agreed to a request for the most mundane kind of work possible, working out a botched deal on the purchase of a horse.

Serana truly and dearly loved this woman, but honestly she was at her wit's end with what she was being dragged into _this_ time. It wasn't as if they held the very fate of Skyrim in their hands, _no_ , they just _had_ to assist every single poor fool that came begging for help.

"We don't have time for this, you know." She mumbled to the woman at her side sourly, instinctively ducking her head as a guard emerged from the pillared opening in the wall leading to the Temple of Mara. His fading footsteps sounded as heavy thumps echoing in her skull over the wooden boardwalk.

The vampire heard the Dragonborn's amused huff once the guard had left, and her irritation spiked.

"Come on, Serana, this won't take that long. Sibbi is a massive brat _and_ a pushover, I'll be able to sort this out no problem." Red eyes darting sideways to pierce the stoic woman with her look of discontent, Serana watched her shrug indifferently instead. She was intrigued by the impishness lighting the woman's tone when she added in a silky voice: "Besides, the Black-Briars are practically wrapped around my finger already."

Really, Serana could not explain the chill that traveled down her spine, hearing the Dragonborn speak in such a way. That woman could really be sultry when she put her heart into it.

The Jarl's palace, if it could actually be called that, was nearing, and Serana tossed a wary glance its way before managing an equally wry response. "Oh, and pray-tell, how did that come to be?"

They now stood before the small shadowed tunnel leading to the dungeons in the stone wall below the balcony of Mistveil Keep, where the Dragonborn stopped with her back turned to Serana. Her body shook with a small chuckle, sounding slightly ashamed with herself when she responded. "A lady doesn't.. ah.. blackmail.. and tell."

Now that was interesting. Hidden by her hood, Serana raised a dubious brow at the woman now pivoting herself around on her heels to face the door.

"Oh, you're terrible." She tsked, moving to follow the woman as she advanced into the tunnel.

The Dragonborn simply threw a brief look over her shoulder, showing the corner of her mouth quirked upward, before turning to the wooden door and gripping its brass handle. She twisted the knob with a click, and stepped inside.

Catching the side of the door with her palm, Serana slipped into the darkened room behind her, peering over the mortal's horned helmet to see a short hallway that only led left. The Dragonborn headed toward it, the vampire quick to pursue and staying close to her back as they were ushered through another double door by the single jailor on guard at the entrance.

After passing through the guards' barracks, they stepped into the large, central room of the dungeon. It was two-storied, the walls lined with metal bars and brick. The floor they stood on consisted of only four jail cells, the two on the right side empty, and the two on the left occupied.

The Dragonborn stood motionless at the doorway for a moment, her head tilted in the direction of the inhabited cells, as if expecting the pompous-sounding voice that almost instantly called out to her.

"Nightingale! Is that you?" Red eyes narrowing dangerously, Serana's attention drifted in the direction of its speaker: the silhouette of a man currently pressed into the bars of his cell at the furthest end of the left wall. Her lip curled at the sardonic laugh he barked out from across the room. "Hah! Aren't you a sight for these sore eyes!"

"Sibbi..." The Dragonborn only sighed in exasperation, footsteps muffled by the straws of hay littering the stone floor as she approached him. Serana trailed after her, her expression of distaste never leaving her the clearer his likeness came to be.

Sibbi Black-Briar looked downright slippery. He _was_ handsome, unfortunately, but he was that kind of handsome that gave off an air of dishonesty and trickery. Welcoming though untrustworthy smile, dark eyes sparkling with mischief, and a face that just spelled out trouble. He looked right at home separated from them by those cell bars, his quarters lavish and flaunting his supposed noble status.

Serana instantly disliked him.

The Dragonborn positioned herself at the barred door of the Black-Briar's cell, lifting her hand to prop them on her hips. "I am here on behalf of Louis Letrush." She stated in a flat tone to the still-smirking mortal man, who unhanded the cold metal of his gilded cage to lean back on his heels and cross his arms arrogantly.

"Ah.. of course. I assume he wants his horse?" Sibbi's lips parted to flash his teeth in a humorless grin, eyes downcast. "That's going to be sort of a problem.." The mortal man huffed, raising a hand to rub at the nape of his neck. "You see, the thing is.. I don't actually 'own' Frost myself."

 _Oh, that's just great._ Serana inwardly hissed, unaware that she had unconsciously mirrored the man's aloof posture, staring him down past the armored figure of the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn reacted in a much more professional way, helmet tilting to the floor as a heavy breath left her. "Sibbi, you don't even own the horse that you already sold to Letrush?"

Sibbi Black-Briar had a very punchable face, Serana decided, as she continued to observe the flippant attitude he treated the most important woman in all of Skyrim with.

"Yes, that is correct," He retorted airily with a not a care in the world, freeing both of his arms to hang by his sides. "You see, _technically_ he is owned by the Black-Briar estate, which _technically_ is all owned by mommy-dear, you know the one, Maven." Sibbi's eyes squinted, emphasizing this with a pointed look to the Dragonborn.

Serana smothered the growl rolling up her throat by swallowing, forcing her eyes to find anywhere else to focus on. Any second more of having to listen to this man and she just might tear through those bars to rip his lying tongue right out through his teeth.

Her wandering gaze landed on the cell adjacent to the Black-Briar's, looking curiously to its strangely silent occupant. The Dragonborn's scathing response to the mortal man was muffled to her ears, as she tried making out his features.

"Sibbi, have I ever told you just how much of a massive fool you are?" Serana heard the Dragonborn say, though she was more interested at the moment with the other prisoner. At first, his figure was bewildering, before the vampire managed to piece together his appearance through the heavy shadows shrouding his cell.

Two pointed ears atop his head, lanky legs bent in front of him where he sat on the ground, and a tail snaking out from behind him. He was a Khajiit, and he was peculiarly uninterested in the drama happening just a couple of feet away from him.

With a jolt, Serana remembered what had been occurring before she decided to block out the mortals' conversation, and hastily tuned back in on their exchange of words.

"You know, Sibbi, I bet Maven would be _very_ interested to hear about all of this." The Dragonborn prompted in a droll tone, cocking her hip outward with a gauntlet-covered palm still against it.

"Sure, sure, okay, kick a guy while he's already down." Sibbi whined dramatically, stepping closer to the bars with a pleading expression. "Look, love, I can make this deal even sweeter."

Serana felt a tick in her brow at _love_ , and she hissed quietly through her teeth. 

She could not even begin to explain just how satisfied she was, when the Dragonborn suddenly lunged for the man, hand slipping between the bars to secure the collar of his expensive robe and jerk him in her direction.

Black-Briar squeaked in alarm, frantically throwing his hands forward to slap into the metal the woman had effectively pinned him against. Serana could hardly contain her amusement, seeing the previously pretentious mortal with his cheek smashed against one of the bars and dark eyes widening in fright as the Dragonborn slowly leaned nearer.

"Listen, Sibbi. This deal was a sham, and it's off," The mortal woman asserted in a low, threatening tone. "I expect you to repay that man what you conned him out of, understand?"

Sibbi nodded wordlessly with some difficultly, still trapped against the cell bars until the Dragonborn straightened herself, and released him with a light shove backward. Black-Briar stumbled, before regaining his footing and brushing at the front of his manhandled robe nervously.

Trying to hide her content smirk, Serana pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

Black-Briar cleared his throat a little shakily, before finding the voice he had apparently lost when the Dragonborn had decided to get violent with him. "It's going to be a little difficult to do that, from in here."

The Dragonborn shifted herself so that she was sideways from him, toward the door they had entered the room from. "Looks like you're going to have to work that out with _mommy-dear_." She sneered mockingly back at him, taking a step.

Serana untangled her arms and started to follow, but was stopped in her tracks as the woman halted without warning right in front of the forgotten Khajiit prisoner's cell.

He rested cross-legged in the center of his cell, completely bare besides the simple pair of trousers he wore, showing off the strange shade of dark blue that was his fur.

Between his hands he clutched a glass jar, where the vampire could detect the fluttering form of some kind of insect. His face was pulled quite close to it, nose nearly touching the container, as he mumbled deliriously beneath his breath.

" _What's that Mr. Dragonfly? The world is a dangerous place_?"

He was talking to his bug. Her chest fluttering with newfound amusement, Serana stole a brief look at her mortal companion while the Khajiit continued to speak quietly to his tiny friend.

" _..Well yes, I suppose so, but it can be beautiful too._ "

The vampire saw the Dragonborn's helmet covered head tilt, still hovering just at the door of his cell. After several seconds of rapt silence, aside from the Khajiit's ongoing monologue, it seemed that her curiosity had grown too strong, and she spoke out to him. "Uhm.. hello?"

The Khajiit's head shot upward in an instant from the jar containing his "Mr. Dragonfly", wide and startling yellow eyes seeking out the woman.

Finally granted with a clear view of his face, Serana was able to make out the cloudy white markings around his muzzle and brow, and the impressive set of scars cutting over the broad bridge of his nose.

His long ears drooped once he had acknowledged the Dragonborn, a sad look shining in those animal-like pupils. "Ah. It is you. Come here to kill me at last?" His head dipped in shame, chin nearly to his chest. "Thank the Gods.. I can bear this guilt no longer..."

Now Serana was really beginning to feel pity for the poor Khajiit. He was obviously out of his mind, from what.. she didn't think she would even like to imagine. Just how long had he been in this dungeon?

The Dragonborn took a step backward from the front of the cell, genuine confusion expressed in her body-language rather than her unseen expression. "Excuse me, what?"

"I know I must die," The blue-furred Khajiit declared boldly, setting aside his bug-friend's jar on the straw peppered floor. He lifted his face fully to the standing woman, lips set in a determined line. "Beware though, my newfound honor demands that I defend myself."

"..Huh?" The mortal woman only sputtered in reply. "Do I know you?" She inquired incredulously, following the Khajiit's movements as he began picking himself off the stone ground to stand.

"I am in no mood for jokes!" The prisoner suddenly exploded, though Serana could hardly take him seriously when he bristled at them in nothing but his loincloth. "Strike me down! Take your revenge!" The Khajiit demanded, spreading his arms wide out at his sides.

"Just ignore the poor sod. He's entirely mad." Sibbi Black-Briar piped up unexpectedly from his own cell, propped up in one of his cushioned chairs with a half-eaten bit of bread in his fingers.

Serana and the Dragonborn simultaneously needled him with an unimpressed glare that quickly had him getting back to his own business. He took a tentative bite of his food with averted eyes.

They both looked back at the blue-furred Khajiit, who had lowered his arms and faced the mortal woman with a persistent look upon his face.

"I'm.. sorry," The Dragonborn began, typically feeling at fault for the obviously deranged cat-man's state. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?"

"You don't remember? Ah.. that must be my doing also." The prisoner said, crestfallen. His yellow eyes fell to the floor, tail tip flickering back and forth against it. Mr. Dragonfly fluttered about lazily in his jar at his feet. "I.. am... your so-called 'friend' Inigo."

"Inigo." The Dragonborn tested his name for herself, pausing as soon as it left her mouth as if trying to recall any memories of his acquaintance.

"I was the one who tried to kill you, I am guilty. Kill me." Inigo insisted sadly, gesturing toward himself with his clawed hands.

Well, Serana was at a total loss for words.

Her red eyes drifted toward the Dragonborn, who sensing the feeling of the look on her, peered over her shoulder at the vampire. Serana saw her lips part, mouthing a silent _what?_ which the Volkihar heiress could only give a hopeless shrug to in return.

Sighing, the Dragonborn went back to facing the Khajiit's from the other side of his cell. "Um.. well.. you didn't actually kill me, obviously... so uh.."

Inigo peered back at her sorrowfully, and Serana watched the Dragonborn's second condoling exhale with a swelling feeling of dread. "Uh... one second, Inigo," She requested, fully turning to step toward Serana.

Oh, oh no. _She wasn't_.

Eyes narrowed and clearly conveying her growing suspicion as the woman came closer to her, Serana could hardly believe what she was hearing when her companion at last said to her in a whisper:

"Serana.. I want to take him with us."

"What?!" The vampire seethed faintly, anger all along with shock and pure disbelief swirling in her head. How could she even _suggest_...

"..He's not some.. helpless kitten on the side of the road, you can't just.. pick him up!" Serana shot back at her, gaze darting past the mortal woman's helmeted head to the jail cell that housed the outlandish Khajiit. "You aren't seriously considering this, are you?"

One glance at the woman's stubborn set of her jaw was all the vampire needed, even before she retorted. "Look, he obviously feels as if he owes me a debt or something.. and I can't just leave him here to rot with that regret for the rest of his life."

Serana made no effort to stop or hide the roll of her eyes, directing her disapproval at the side of the brick wall instead of the mortal in front of her.

"Alright.. fine." She agreed begrudgingly through gritted teeth, hearing a breath of relief from her mortal companion and the clinking of armor as she left the vampire to sulk at the railing blocking off the opening to the lower floor of the dungeons.

"Hey, Inigo," The Dragonborn captured the blue-furred Khajiit's attention once more, small though warm smile starting at the edges of her mouth. "I don't really remember much about what happened, but it sounds as if you still have an obligation to fulfill. Come with me."

Inigo seemed to brighten, his large ears perking. "I.. fight with you?"

"Yes, Inigo, repay your debt to me with the blood of my enemies." The mortal woman offered along with her smile, raising a clenched fist.

The Khajiit formed fists as well, shaking them in a display of bluster with his tail lashing excitedly behind him. "Or die defending you, yes! I accept! I feel lighter in my heart now that you have given me this opportunity, it will be just like old times!" Inigo flashed the two of them a sharp-toothed grin, and in all honesty, Serana found his newly-acquired enthusiasm.. cute. She would never admit it, though.

The Dragonborn must have agreed, for she rewarded his outburst with a very rare bit of laughter. "Well, sure. Give me a moment, Inigo, I'll get you out of there."

True to her word, it only took a simple appeal from the nearest jailor on duty, and Inigo's door was open.

The vampire observed from her place between the cat-man and Sibbi's cells as the Khajiit took his first step into freedom, clutching Mr. Dragonfly's jar in his hands and beaming at his.. well it would be appropriate to call the Dragonborn his savior. Just as she had been to Serana not long ago.

Lost in nostalgic thought, Serana remained motionless as the chatting Dragonborn and Inigo started for the exit.

Well, they had one thing in common as far as she knew. Perhaps.. this Inigo would not be too much a challenge to get along with.

"Heh. Looks like you've got some competition." Sibbi Black-Briar commented from behind the safety of his cell's bars.

Serana felt her brow twitch, and turning her head to him, she growled.

The mortal man startled and shrunk further into the recesses of his quarters as the vampire parted with a huff and stalked off.


	11. Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serana told me that her father was trying to gain power over the sun by fulfilling a prophecy found in the Elder Scrolls. If we could read the prophecy, we might be able to stop him. Serana had one of the scrolls, but we'd need a Moth Priest in order to read it._

The arch of Dragon Bridge was shrinking further behind the two of them as Serana and the Dragonborn walked the winding cobblestone road south. The churning of Karth River had weakened to a gentle gurgle in the distance, accompanied by the vampire's quiet footsteps and the mortal's heartbeat.

Before them was a vast road, worn and wide from the thousands of travelers before them. They were somewhere in between the frigid mountains of Solitude and the jagged forests of Markarth, and going nowhere in particular.

They were searching, searching the endless wilderness that stretched all the way to the capital of Skyrim for a missing caravan.

If were to be out here somewhere, they'd finally be making some progress in tracking down the Moth Priest they'd spent the last couple of weeks tailing.

They'd chatted up dozens of inn keepers, carriage drivers, and even managed to wheedle some information and several books from the librarian Orc at the College of Winterhold. That stingy Orc was incredibly protective of his books, but they had gotten what they needed.

All that work had landed them here, still with no completely solid leads other than the account of a farm boy who'd been stuffed into a guard's uniform.

Frankly, Serana was tired of moving from place to place so rapidly, even if were for the sake of stopping her father. At least also meant she had been spending every waking moment at the Dragonborn's side.

The woman continued to fascinate and baffle her the longer they spent together; there seemed to be no end to her odd, but endearing behavior. Serana had grown very fond of the mortal, even if her companionship felt infuriatingly one-sided more often than not.

For one, the mortal didn't talk much, and that made it very difficult to keep any kind of conversation going even despite the bond Serana had felt form between them after the Dragonborn had confided to her about her past trauma, and vice versa for herself.

The Dragonborn didn't usually speak unless spoken to, though she  _did_  indulge in conversation with Serana after a while of constant pestering.

Really, the vampire had come to the conclusion long ago that the Dragonborn preferred to let her actions do all the speaking for her, and Serana could respect that. It was just that the mortal did it too well. She was like a Dwemer machine, emotionless and single-minded when presented with a task.

Another thing the Dragonborn was far too good at was masking her emotions. Serana absolutely despised how poorly she was able read the mortal at times. Once or twice there was a crack in her mask of stoicism when she was caught completely off guard, but being as grounded as she was, that did not happen often.

Serana was determined to figure this woman she had the pleasure of calling "friend" out if was the last thing she did..

The companionable silence that had settled between them as the walk continued had by now become a routine between the two woman, one that was always welcomed by Serana.

It was a placid kind of silence that both parties enjoyed. The Dragonborn got to mull over her thoughts in private, and Serana got to study the woman with little risk of being caught.

She took her chance. The vampire walked on the left side of the road, tilting her head as she continued on to face the mortal on her right. The Dragonborn maintained an even pace with the vampire, that horned helmet on her head, hiding every bit of her face but her mouth. Her movements were automatic; she didn't seem to notice the eyes upon her.

Serana focused on the mortal's lips, feeling nothing other than curiosity, the vampire assured herself.

It was a feature the vampire more often than not relied on to determine how the Dragonborn was feeling. Now, they were pressed together, so Serana was able to imagine the scowl in the woman's expression beneath the safety of her helmet. Occasionally her lower lip was pinched by her teeth, flushing the skin a darker shade of pink.

She was apprehensive, perhaps? Lost in thought?

Serana blinked, several times in fact, trying to tear her eyes away from another woman's lips.

Instead, she let her red gaze wander further downward. The mortal's legs shifted over the ground smoothly, and rather hastily for a woman of her stature. Serana stood at least an inch taller than the Dragonborn, and yet she was moving as if she were in the middle of a race and pulling ahead of the vampire.

Serana then noticed that her dominant had was hovering near her left hip. The vampire returned her gaze straight ahead, where the road curved left around a small, rocky ridge.

The Dragonborn suddenly broke into a jog, a hand gripping the end of her ebony sword.

Serana gave a short gasp before doing the same. "Hey! What is it?" She called after the woman.

They had already reached the twist in the road before the Dragonborn answered. "Up ahead! I-"

The mortal woman's limited use of words were cut short as they the two of them rounded the bend of the ridge. At the next turn there laid a toppled wooden carriage. A horse's corpse, still attached to the crashed transport, was in a similar position. Arrows jutted out from its flank, side, and chest.

The Dragonborn's pace slowed as she approached, as did Serana's. The vampire's nose was flooded with the overbearing stench of death and the metallic tang of blood. Usually the presence of it was appetizing, but the scene before her was enough to stamp out any desire to feed for quite a long time.

Human corpses were spread out over the grass as well, so bloodied and maimed that they were nearly unidentifiable. Chests were torn open, exposing ribcages and lungs, and most disturbingly a missing heart. Limbs were removed from bodies, a selection of severed arms and legs scattered in random places around the massacre. Throats were slit, or most likely  _bitten_  out, and one unfortunate Imperial man was without a head.

Unbelievable amounts of crimson stained the grass, clashing with the otherwise soothing green of nature. Flying insects flocked over the corpses, buzzing audibly.

It was honestly horrible, even to her.

Despite being a vampire that sustained herself with very thing splattered all around, Serana's legs refused to take her any closer than where she had pulled to a stop.

The Dragonborn had no such reservations. With stiff movements the mortal padded forward, shuffling her way carefully past the closest corpse to the tipped bed of the carriage where crates, burlap bags of goods, and leather-wrapped animal skins had been thrown haphazardly to the earth.

A regular woman would have swooned and fainted where she stood, most likely after an ear-splitting scream of horror.

The Dragonborn was no regular woman, as Serana was well aware, and immediately began sifting through the disheveled contents of the caravan.

Serana forced herself to move a brave step closer, still surveying the bloody surroundings.

She didn't fight the pity flooding her at the sight all the mangled human corpses, this was simply tragic. No one deserved this kind of fate. Her kind could  _really_  be savages.

Serana tiptoed her way about the slaughter scene, nose wrinkling as she stepped over dismembered corpses and piles of bloody mush that resembled intestines. She waved her hands about to rid the area of flies.

The Dragonborn continued to comb around, dumping the contents of crates and satchels to the grass in search of.. anything.

Serana assisted however she could, scouring the area with similar luck. She was preparing to give up and return to the mortal when something caught her eye.

Partially concealed by a patch of thriving mountain flowers, there was a crumpled, greyish, and vaguely human-shaped form. Serana promptly shot toward it, drawing in a deep breath to allow her nose decide whether it was anything worth investigating.

The scent hanging off the body was a recognizable one. Volkihar. The body was a vampire. Serana came closer, shoving away the cluster of mountain flowers and leaves.

A deep gash marred the upper part of the Volkihar vampire's exposed chest, leaking black blood down porcelain skin. The cut went deep, straight over her heart.

Serana crouched, hands gliding lightly over the female vampire's body. She had to have something, something to explain why her father had sent his court members after this particular caravan.

Besides the few lockpicks concealed in the folds on her armor, as if could be actually be called that, Serana discovered nothing of incredible importance until she decided after much internal dispute to reach down the dead vampire's shirt.

Cringing as her hand slid between the vampire's ice-cold cleavage, she nearly flinched when paper brushed against her fingertips halfway down. A tiny burst of adrenaline tightening her chest, Serana struggled to maintain a stable hold on the paper to yank it free. Behind her she sensed movement.

Serana pulled the folded sheet loose, casting a glance over her shoulder as she did.

The Dragonborn stood there, arms crossed, a sad frown on her mouth.

"What did you find?" She spoke as soon as the vampire laid eyes upon her.

Serana swiftly returned her attention to the newly acquired scrap of paper as she stood, prying it open with the Dragonborn hovering at her back. Breaking past the marginally re-melted red wax seal, the vampire was greeted by roughly scrawled letters, a man's handwriting she figured.

"I have new orders for you," She began. "Prepare an ambush just south of the Dragon Bridge. Take the Moth Priest to Forebears' Holdout for safekeeping until I am able to break his will." Serana pivoted herself around, face-to-face with the woman. Well, face-to-helmet. "Signed Malkus." The vampire concluded, offering the paper to the waiting hands of the Dragonborn.

The mortal took a short moment to glance over the paper herself, a hand moving to her face to cup her chin. Serana wordlessly waited for her companion's response.

"So the Priest  _was_  with the caravan," The Dragonborn shoved the paper back to Serana, who scrambled to grasp it in her hands as the mortal's fell away.

Reaching around to her knapsack, the Dragonborn revealed a different square of paper. She preceded to unfold it. "Forebears' Holdout.." The mortal mused underneath her breath, a finger tracing over the now unraveled map.

The Dragonborn's head rose from the map after a bit of simply brushing back and forth across the paper.

"Let's hope they're still there, and that poor Priest is alive." The finger lifted too, pointing south along the road. Serana let her eyes follow the route it guided her to. "Conveniently, Forebears' Holdout is that cave," The vampire's seeking eyes swept over the tangle of trees and shrubbery, past the small bridge set over the creek that cut into the land ahead of them. "There."

Serana was still uncertain to where "there" was; she'd just have to trust the mortal and her sense of direction.

She was ready to crack some skulls and get this over with. They could not allow her father to get his hands on that Priest; to have any chance of throwing a wrench into his plans they'd have to remain a step ahead throughout this whole ordeal.

Reinvigorated with a newfound jolt of determination, the vampire hopped on the balls of her feet, flashing a tiny smile. "Fantastic, let's hurry then. If we dawdle too long it may be too late for that Moth Priest."

The Dragonborn was already in the process of returning her map to its pocket in her bag, head nodding once in agreement. "Come on then, vampire. We have a Moth Priest to rescue."

* * *

The two women squeezed into the small gap torn into the mountainside, a craggy, well hidden entrance that would be very easy to miss unless you were actively looking for it.

Serana had spent her fair share of time in caves already and wasn't very excited about wedging herself into a narrow and dark tunnel, but nevertheless the vampire trudged down the slanting cavern floor after her mortal companion with a grimace.

This was where they needed to be, Forebears' Holdout. The Moth Priest was here, hopefully.

A lone torch burned at the bottom of the passage, choking precious clean air with a small billow of smoke that floated upward, and out of sight in the darkness. The Dragonborn never broke her careful, silent stride as she continued on.

The vampire stayed close behind the shorter woman, stubbornly ignoring the tightness growing in her stomach with each step. This space was too small, way too small. Serana had felt the atmosphere around her instantly close her in a choke hold of mounting anxiety the moment she'd stepped foot inside.

The vampire loathed the way her pale hands trembled at her sides, fingers flexing at empty air for something to grip, something solid to ground herself with. Every second was torturous at the stealthy, slow pace the Dragonborn had set.

Damn this claustrophobia. It was entirely her mother's fault, sealing her into that cramped, dusty monolith for thousands of years. The last thing Serana had seen before giving in to a spell-induced slumber was that heavy stone door swinging towards her.

When the shivering soon became too much to bear, Serana acted on her panicked urge.

Both hands found themselves on either on the mortal's shoulders, the shining metal frigid to the touch.

The contact was immediately met with a slight startle, the Dragonborn jerking to a halt so suddenly that Serana couldn't react fast enough to stop her front from colliding with the woman's back.

Stumbling backward enough that their bodies no longer touched, Serana could not pry her hands open to release the desperate hold they had on her friend.

"Serana?" The mortal inquired in a voice low with concern.

The vampire swallowed thickly, not willing to remove herself from the woman now that she had not been met with resistance. The space around her was starting to feel a tad bit less smothering.

"Sorry.." The vampire held an inkling of pride at how she was able to keep her own voice so level. "As you know.. I'm not a fan of tight, cramped-"

"Claustrophobic caverns?" The Dragonborn cut in, still making no move to shake off the vampire, or even turn around and face her as they spoke.

Curiously, Serana kept her eyes to the back of the mortal's helmet, nodding, even knowing the woman would not see it. "Yea..." She had remembered that tiny detail, revealed so long ago at their first meeting?

The other woman puffed quietly with laughter, and the rare sound soothed Serana a little.

"I understand, I was lost in thought and you startled me, is all. This tunnel will lead into a larger cavern soon." She gestured further down the tunnel, where a soft orange glow illuminated the water-slicked rock walls.

The vampire released a mental sigh of relief at that, closing her eyes and nodding again.

The mortal began walking after hesitating for a few quiet seconds, and in that pause Serana let her hands slip away to hang at her sides instead.

Serana followed, giving a real calming breath as they went around the curve of the shaft, passing the second torch. Open, though not very fresh, air rushed into them, revealing a dimly-lit large grotto. A small ledge with a spiked railing rested on ridge that dropped off where the two women stood, and there the mortal dropped to a crouch.

The vampire did the same.

The faint flicker of torches burned across an underground creek, a ramp of earth hugging crumbling stone ruins. Serana could see the silhouettes of fledglings patrolling the raised arches, and movement farther in than even her eyesight could discern clearly.

The fortress looked like a forgotten, buried stronghold, its courtyard a rounded wall of bricks where inside a large bonfire crackled.

The most eye-catching thing, however, was the brilliant blue mass of light swirling in the highest center pavilion.

"What in Nirn are they doing?" Serana turned to the mortal when she heard her whispering voice. The Dragonborn had her hands upon the railing, leaning forward in the direction of the blue gleam.

With a shrug, Serana narrowed her eyes, peering back up at the sphere of light. Two vampires were positioned at the edges of the glow and a lone figure hunched in its center.

"I'm assuming that the Moth Priest is up there, somewhere in all.. that." The vampire offered, inching closer against the railing herself.

The mortal pulled back just as she reached it, helmet shaking, muttering incoherent words under her breath.

Serana would have passed it off as an expression of annoyance, if not for the pulse of magic that tugged at her. The vampire whirled around to face the source it.

In the Dragonborn's place was a woman clad in skin-tight, black armor, a mask concealing her face, and hood with a flowing cape that pooled onto the floor behind her.

The vampire's immediate response was alarm, flaring at the unfamiliar sight until a fingerless-gloved hand tugged down the cloth covering the mortal's face.

A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. "Relax, Serana. It's still me in here."

 _How.. how did she change armor so quickly?_  Still pretty flustered, her undead heart thumping weakly in her chest, Serana blinked incredulously. "What.. how did you do that?"

The Dragonborn pulled the mask back into place, leaving only her amber eyes visible, sparkling with amusement. "Just a glamour spell I learned for myself, to change armor without all the hassle." She paused, and maybe thinking her explanation had been a little lackluster, added: "It's Nightingale Armor."

Nightingale... Where had she heard that name before? Her eyes traveling down, and back up the mortal's body, Serana's brow creased. "For stealth, then?" The armor was pitch black, and layered like the individual scales of.. well, a dragon came to mind. How fitting.

The Dragonborn tugged at the brim of her hood, adjusting it as her head nodded in confirmation. "Yes, think you can keep your mouth shut for that long,  _hla khes_?" The unfamiliar words would have felt like a barb, if not for the mortal's teasing tone of voice. Serana would have to remind herself sometime to start brushing up on Dunmeri, though.

She huffed, smiling good-naturedly. "If you're going to insult me, do it in a language I can understand, please."

"It wasn't really an insult.." The Dragonborn replied with a smile in her words, most of her expression hidden by the hood and mask, though Serana could see one of her eyebrows lifting.

 _It.. wasn't?_  What had it been then? A term of endearment? Serana was willing to add another language to her vocabulary with this kind of burning desire to know at stake.

The Dragonborn then stood upright, gesturing with one open palm for the vampire to stay put. "Hold back here for the time being. I'm going to see what I can do to the fledglings on lookout, we'll worry about the others afterward."

Serana lowered herself completely to the stone, for a more comfortable position.  _Gah, dammit. What did she call me?_

The mortal glanced down at her. "They don't have as sensitive senses of smell as regular vampires, right?"

The vampire shook her head. "They'll be about as little of a challenge as a simple bandit." These fledglings had probably been just that, bandits forced into vampirism. They were still developing, pretty much the equivalent of newborns.

The elder vampires, however, would not be as easily fooled. They may not be able to see the Dragonborn, but they would definitely be able to smell her the moment she got too close.

With an approving hum, her friend presented a white vial in her hand, popping its cork free with her thumb. Suddenly, the space the Dragonborn had once been was empty. Serana could barely detect the shimmering, transparent form that had taken its place.

Without another word, it began creeping down the slope, toward the ruins' outer wall.

Serana watched from her vantage point, losing track of the woman before she had even stepped through the gate. The missing mortal reappeared when the invisibly potion wore off, broken by the dagger being plunged into a fledgling's back.

The Dragonborn lowered the corpse to the stone, launching herself over the side of wall as the second fledgling approached, drawn by the noise. The mortal hung by her fingers from the rim of the walkway.

The vampire approached the body, and Serana felt a stab of worry as he was surely preparing to cry out a warning. However before he could utter a word, the black-clad silhouette of the Dragonborn struck like a snake laying in wait, grabbing the clueless vampire by the leg.

Serana couldn't help but wince, as he was thrown to the gravel below, the woman pouncing to silence him soon after the impact.

The mortal glanced up, directly at the vampire on the ledge. A gloved hand rose in the air, signalling her to follow.

After crossing the small bridge over the rushing current of the cavern's river, Serana and the Dragonborn moved past the bonfire toward a brazier next to the bottom of a spiraling staircase.

The light faded the further they climbed, a voice carrying in from the pavilion. "There's no use in hiding, mortal."

The Dragonborn froze, throwing her left arm out to stop Serana as well.

Boots thudded overhead, straight toward the staircase. The mortal's arm met with Serana's chest, urging her backward. The vampire complied as quickly as she could, the shadow of a man appearing at the top step.

The elder vampire's hands sparked with blue tendrils of electricity.

"Found you!" Malkus snarled, a growing ball lightning gathering in between his palms. The mortal woman's hand raised to her face, tugging the mask away from her mouth.

There was no way Serana could conjure up a ward in time, and even if she managed too, she knew little about that kind of magic, it would shatter the moment the powerful lightning spell crashed into it. The backlash of it would most likely send she and the mortal back down the staircase, so this was going to be painful.

The blast she had already prepared herself for never came.

" _Yol_ ," The elder vampire's spell sputtered in his hands, bewilderment replacing his feral scowl. " _Toor Shul_!"

Serana nearly tripped over herself, backing down the stairs in fright as a scorching jet of fire washed over Malkus and illuminated the once shadowed passageway.

The sudden spike in heat prickling at her skin, Serana could only look on with wide eyes as the male vampire screamed in agony, the divine flames completely engulfing him.

"Malkus!" A horrified female voice joined in with the elder vampire's cries.

The still-burning vampire's form was brought to its knees, his wailing becoming fainter and fainter, before dying completely with a croak. Whatever that was left of Malkus was now a blackened body, fading orange flames still licking over his charred skin.

The Dragonborn had climbed to the top step as Serana simply stared in mute terror, the male vampire's companion in a similar state of shock. The second vampire was a woman, a sword held limply in her hand, looking down at the scalded corpse that had once been Malkus.

A stone, its surface covered in a glowing blue zig-zag pattern, went unnoticed to all but Serana when it met the stone floor and rolled from the dead vampire.

Red eyes, burning with rage, locked onto the Dragonborn standing over the burnt corpse.

"You bitch, I'll rip you to shreds!" The female vampire roared, the tip of her sword scraping against the stone floor as she charged, arcing it upward.

The Dragonborn met the blow with her dagger, metal cutting into metal with a grating screech. Even with the disadvantage of a smaller weapon, she kept her opponent's longer blade at bay, locking the both of them in place.

The female vampire was the first to break their stalemate, back-stepping to allow herself room to swing again. The Dragonborn's dagger parried with the strike again, though this time she threw her leg out, catching the vampire directly in her abdomen with the heel of her boot.

With a grunt of complaint, the vampire doubled forward, her free arm clutching herself. The Dragonborn was soon upon her, wrenching her sword arm into a disarming angle, a dagger stabbing hilt-deep through the vampire's throat.

Serana rose from her crouch, the strange, palm-sized stone in hand. The mortal freed her weapon, letting the female vampire fall to the ground with a thump.

The woman looked to the remaining vampire, sheathing her weapon. She lifted a hand to her head to pull the hood back too, amber eyes looking curiously at the luminous weystone. It was a warm, pulsing weight in Serana's pale hand.

Serana could only guess it was the key to breaking the magical barrier, still flickering a soft blue behind the Dragonborn.

Her head fully uncovered, the mortal woman approached Serana, one palm outstretched.

No words were needed between them; the vampire deposited the weystone to her, which she grasped tightly, hastily turning on her heel to climb to the ledge up a half-buried staircase.

The vampire neared the dancing, flame-like wall of the barrier where an elderly man, the Moth Priest, lay hunched in a fetal position in the center of it.

There was an earthy clicking noise, before the very floor beneath Serana's feet began shaking. The entire cavern rumbled, the vampire trying to stay on her feet, and the Dragonborn gripping the railing in front her while the monoliths lining the barrier sunk back into the ground.

The shaking lessened to a rumble that rattled in the vampire's skull, her gaze on the stirring Moth Priest. He had risen from the floor, supported by his hands, and the vampire already had a sense of premonition that something was..  _wrong_  with the man.

Regardless, Serana had taken a step closer.

"My master is dead..." As the words reached her ears, the vampire stopped. "But his enemies will pay!" The Priest growled, rounding on Serana, who was the closest to him.

The Dragonborn let loose a curse in Dunmeri from the weystone's balcony.

 _Oh wonderful. He's been enthralled._  Serana stood her ground as the mortal man rushed her, armed with nothing but his fists. He had no magic or weapon; he was just an old man trying to engage in a fist-fight with an ancient vampire.

With the Moth Priest upon her, spindly arm reared back to punch, Serana closed the remaining distance between them herself. Grabbing the collar of his dull brown robe, she sent her own fist crashing into his jaw with unimaginable speed.

The old man instantly crumpled with the hit, and he would have fallen back to the stone floor unceremoniously if the Dragonborn had not lurched forward at the last moment, securing him upright in her arms.

The mortal then gently lowered the Priest on his back, before looking up at the vampire. "Nice right hook, but you could've killed him, you know."

Serana's left palm glided over her right's bare knuckles.

"No worries, I didn't use all my strength." But she did knock the poor fool out cold. A purplish, blue bruise was already forming a splotch in the skin beneath the white hairs of the Priest's beard. They wouldn't be getting information out of him anytime soon about the Elder Scrolls.

The Dragonborn sighed, glancing back down the mortal man's unconscious form. "Will the spell be broken, now that you've knocked some sense back into that head of his?"

Serana nodded, tugging at the strap that held her Elder Scroll against her back. "Should be." Was all she offered. Hopefully...

The Dragonborn puffed again, the frustrated expression that accompanied it quite adorable in Serana's opinion, but hell, she found everything about the woman to be charming in one way or another. "Let's get him back to Dragon Bridge."

The mortal woman hauled the much larger body over her shoulder, bearing his weight with a surprising show of strength. A little impressed with the display, Serana followed her mortal companion down the winding staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Dunmeri was just the Dragonborn calling Serana a gem. Cheesy, I know, fight me.**


	12. Seeking Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In order to locate Auriel's Bow, the Moth Priest, Dexion, indicated that two other Elder Scrolls would be required. The first scroll foretells the interactions of the dragons with the history of Nirn. The second foreshadows the defiance of the gods with the blood of mortals._

"Please, you must understand. That.. that wasn't me you were fighting," Dexion Evicus, the Moth Priest, spoke while cradling the right side of his whiskered face. He had seated himself in a chair across a small rounded table from the two women, tenderly rubbing the intense bruise tainting his wrinkled skin. "I could see through my eyes, but I could not control my actions.." The old man lamented, seeking forgiveness from a vampire of all things with his two watery dark eyes.

Serana couldn't help but frown sadly in her own chair beside the Dragonborn, allowing herself to feel a sliver of pity for the pathetic mortal. He'd been wary of her at first, being a vampire and all, but now the old man seemed truly grateful that she had been the one to free him from Malkus's enthrallment.

Really, it hadn't been anything, all she did was punch him in the face..

The three of them were at a lone, spare bar table in the center of the Four Shields Inn's basement, hay littering the floor, and rows of wine and mead racks against the walls.

The Dragonborn leaned forward, face uncovered, her expression something between apathy and sympathy. She did not seem used to comforting people very often. "It's okay, Dexion, we harbor no ill will toward you."

The Moth Priest rambled on despite the woman's soft words, eyes downcast. "Oh, thank the divines for you two! If you had not freed me from that foul vampire's grasp, I.. I.." Serana held in a sigh, glancing sideways to the mortal, who was giving her a similar look of exasperation.

"Dexion, Dexion!" The mortal woman cut in, raising her voice above its comforting whisper. The old man's head shot up, almost guiltily. "Are you alright?" She inquired simply, her silky voice once again at that soothing pitch that even had Serana relaxing in the hard wooden chair.

Dexion released a heavy breath, his liver-spotted hand falling away to rest below the table top. Serana felt a twinge of _something_ , seeing the full glory of the bruise her fist had left. "Yes.. yes I'm quite alright. Thanks to you.." The feeble mortal man murmured, unwilling to make eye-contact with either of them.

Serana watched the Dragonborn's own hand slide forward, over the surface of the table to rest before the Moth Priest. It effectively caught his attention, forcing him to look upward. "That's good to hear. Do you know why those vampires took you?"

The Moth Priest struggled to keep his eyes in one place, they darted about the basement, recalling the nightmarish memories that had been reality not long ago. "I"m not sure. They surely had some purpose for me, but they would not say. Perhaps they were hoping to ransom me, the fools."

 _They needed you for the same reason that we do._ Serana kept silent, however, suspecting it to be the very next thing her mortal friend would say. The vampire wasn't entirely comfortable with interacting with the mortal man anyway, one accidental flash of her fangs and who knew if she'd send him into a panic or not.

Red eyes were captured by movement to her right. The Dragonborn shook her head, retracting her hand back to their side of the table. "No, they weren't looking to ransom you Dexion. They needed you for the same reason that we do." She spoke carefully, looking up him with a blank expression. Serana's pale fingers slid around the leather strip draped diagonally over her chest.

Dexion blinked in confusion before finding his trembling voice again. "You.. do? W-what do you need?"

"Time is short, and we don't have time to explain everything," The vampire barely contained the involuntary jerk her body responded with when a hand landed on her shoulder. "We need you to read an Elder Scroll for us." A warm sensation tingling throughout her body, Serana could only stare dumbly across the table to the stunned Moth Priest, before a tiny nudge from the Dragonborn reminded her what she had strapped over her back.

Hastily slipping the leather free, the vampire grabbed the legendary scroll around its middle and set it onto the table.

It was as if a switch had been flicked within the traumatized mortal man. He immediately lit up at the sight of it, a wide smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Though he winced soon after, the movement must had aggravated his bruise. Still, he gazed down at the Scroll in awe.

"You have an Elder Scroll? Incredible!" The Priest looked as if he wanted to touch it, though refrained himself from doing so with a twitch of his hands, which had lifted from his lap.

Dexion tore his gaze from the Scroll at last, looking directly at the Volkihar vampire this time. "Oh, I would be happy to assist you! This was my entire purpose for coming to Skyrim, you know."

Serana found herself unwittingly nodding along, grimacing under the unwanted attention. Thankfully, Dexion seemed ready to unleash his enthusiasm on the both them, turning to the Dragonborn with that radiant look of excitement when her words reached him.

"Dexion, would you be able to read it.. right here? As I said, we're pressed for time and must get this done as soon as possible."

If it was even possible, the mortal man shone brighter, his smile transforming into a delighted grin. "Most certainly, let's find out what secrets this scroll can share, yes?"

"Yes." It was Serana who answered him, two pairs of eyes falling on her where she held the ancient scroll forward in a pale grip.

The Dragonborn regarded her with an unreadable look upon her face, nothing too uncommon, and Dexion still grinning like a joyful madman.

His open hands stretched toward the scroll, delicately wrapping his fingers around it, Serana let her Elder Scroll's weight fall to Dexion.

"Now, if you would please be silent. I must concentrate for this." The Moth Priest requested in between a couple of deep breaths, swallowing the thrill of the situation and taking on a more serious tone.

The vampire and the mortal woman fell as quiet as the dead, looking on Dexion scooted his chair backward, holding the scroll horizontally in the air with one hand. His other's fingers secured themselves around the bottom half of the rolled up scroll, pulling it open at a painstakingly slow pace. The Priest's face was obstructed by the parchment. A soft golden glow bathed over the front of his cloak.

"I see.. a vision before me." The mortal man uttered after several moments of rapt silence. "It is an image of a great weapon, a bow... Auriel's Bow!" _Auriel's Bow?_ Head tilting, Serana found herself sharing an interested look with her mortal friend. "Now a voice whispers: _Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light, and night and day will be as one._ "

 _Well that's certainly ominous..._ Dragons returning to the realm of men, darkness and light, night and day..

So the prophecy her father had clung to all these centuries was actually real, and it seemed its time was nearly upon them. Serana knew firsthand that dragons had made their great return, so that was one section already proven true.

Darkness and light.. perhaps it were referring to the Volkihar Clan and the Dawnguard, or more specifically, herself and the literal walking embodiment of light that was the Dragonborn.

The vampire's inward musing would have gone on, if not for Dexion's interrupting, trance-like tone. "It is fading.. but there is more here. The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think.. I believe there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other Elder Scrolls."

 _More scrolls?_ Serana's brows raised at that, unable to hold in the noise of complaint that escaped her. The Dragonborn shifted in her seat beside her restlessly.

"Yes, yes, I see them now. One contains the ancient secrets of dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood.." The old man sighed, his expression hidden by the unfurled Elder Scroll. "My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must obtain the remaining two Elder Scrolls."

Dexion's speech had noticeably weakened as he read on, the last word slipping from his lips as an exhausted breath. With shaky hands, the Moth Priest re-folded the scroll with great care, and as he did so the Dragonborn shot up from her chair to his stand by his side. The old man swayed slightly in his chair, laying the scroll back onto the wooden surface of the table.

Serana placed a protective hand over it while the other woman supported the rapidly fading old man upright.

"I must rest now, the reading has made me weary." The Dragonborn acted as his crutch, pulling him to his feet, and shuffling alongside side him to one of the Inn's servant's cots against the wall. "You have the Blood scroll.. here.. all you need is the Dragon.. and-"

The Dragonborn shushed the Moth Priest, releasing him as he lowered onto the bed. Serana watched with narrowed eyes, feeling ridiculous for the stab of jealousy she was experiencing at the sight of it.

"Don't waste your energy, Dexion. We can speak about this once you've had your rest, thank you." She urged with a small smile, before returning to the table and taking the old man's place across from the vampire.

The mortal and vampire held each other's gazes for a while as Dexion's breathing eventually evened out. Serana's fingers tightened subconsciously around the legendary scroll between them.

The Dragonborn was the first to break the stillness. "What's on your mind?"

Serana involuntary quirked a brow, absentmindedly rolling the Scroll in her palm over the tabletop.

Refusing to let the mortal use her eyes as a window into her mind, Serana broke away, looking down at the hand clutching her Elder Scroll.

They needed two more to uncover the rest of the prophecy, and Serana was almost certain she knew where one of those had to be.

"Dexion. He said we needed two other scrolls.." The vampire replied at last, when the intensity of the look she felt upon her became too much to bear. "I think I know where we can start looking."

Valerica, her mother, had one of the scrolls.

"One."

Serana's head shot up, hearing the single word her mortal friend retorted.

"What?" The vampire asked.

The Dragonborn wore a strangely empty expression, then suddenly, a twitch at the corner of her lips. "We only need one other scroll. I have one."

" _What_?" The vampire spoke again, her voice faltering halfway through.

A delightful airy laugh came tumbling from the mortal woman, and Serana felt her undead body burning with scorn. It was a pleasant sound, though Serana wanted to smack the woman for getting her hopes up like that.

Already preparing to lunge across the table, the vampire stopped, when the Dragonborn's hand slid free from the mouth of her bag, pulling the ornate golden end of an Elder Scroll with it.

"Hah! That face you made was hilarious, you know." The mortal chuckled softly.

Thoroughly stunned, the vampire watched with tight lips as the second Scroll was slid over the table to rest next to her own.

"This is the Dragon Scroll. I've read it once before myself, so we needn't bother Dexion with it, so all we need is the final scroll." Her friend explained, her tone swapping its usual monotone with a more casual mood. Her mind still reeling, Serana lifted her head to look the mortal in the face. "You said you had an idea where the last one might be, so where is this scroll?"

This greatly simplified things. If Serana's hunch was correct, they would have every Scroll needed to decipher the prophecy.

"We need to find my mother, Valerica. She has it."

The Dragonborn's smile faded to turn a dubious look onto the vampire. "But.. you said you didn't know where she went. Where would we even start?"

"The last time I saw her, she said would hide away in a safe place. A place my father would never even think to search.." Serana could not think of many places her father would actively avoid looking or simply brush off.. and yet the solution was so obvious. "I think she's hiding right under his nose, in Castle Volkihar."

Her friend nodded thoughtfully. "That.. actually makes some sort of sense."

Serana nodded too, arms slithering off of the table to wrap around herself tightly. There was only one place in Castle Volkihar her father couldn't bear to be in, Valerica's study. "There was this courtyard where I used to help my mother tend to her garden. All of the ingredients we gathered for potions were stored in this underground lab of hers. My father could never stand it, he claimed it was too.. 'peaceful'."

"That's a risky move, staying that close to him." The Dragonborn commented.

For whatever reason, Serana jumped on the chance to defend her mother. "Oh, definitely. But my mother is no coward." The fire in her chest did not take long to sputter out, smothered by the conflicting feelings she fostered for both Valerica and her father. "I don't think we'll actually trip over her there, but it's worth a shot."

The mortal woman huffed, still doubtful. "They aren't going to just let us through the front door, Serana."

No front door would be needed where they were going. Serana rocked into the backboard of her seat and replied with confidence: "Don't worry your pretty little head. I know a way to the courtyard without it."


	13. Meeko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This one is something I wrote while in a cold/allergy induced haze. It's probably a little OOC for the DB, but I had fun writing it so why not post it?**

Everything hurt. Her arms, her legs, her lungs, her head, so much that Serana was seriously beginning to question her devotion to the woman walking in front of her.

Eyes narrowed, the vampire glared tiredly into the back of the Dragonborn past the rim of her hood, strolling in the middle of the cobblestone road ahead of her without a single trouble in the world.

Meanwhile, Serana was melting in the relentless glow of the sun.

At least she was given some shred of relief, when the branches of the trees looming overhead blocked the rays with their clusters of leaves, but even in the safety of the shade she felt unfairly drained and wanting nothing more than to collapse and maybe lay face-down on the ground for a little while.

While their mission was certainly an important one, Serana couldn't help but whine about her companion's completely normal travel plan. Rest at night, walk during the day, that's how mortals worked. Serana was not a mortal.

Serana wished they at least had a horse, so that she wouldn't have to do the work herself, but the Dragonborn insisted that they never lasted a single day and buying one would be a waste of septims.

 _Maybe you should say something, then. It's not like she ever gets much resting done when its dark._ Serana mused to herself, red eyes downcast to watch her own boots treading slowly over the road below her. _It wouldn't hurt to ask. I'm sure she'd be reasonable._

So absorbed within her own thoughts, the vampire didn't notice that the woman in front of her had stopped, but it was swiftly brought to her attention when she crashed right into the Dragonborn, causing the both of them to stumble.

"Ah! Serana," The woman breathed in surprise, not sounding nearly as annoyed as the vampire was feeling at the moment. The Dragonborn twisted around to catch Serana, who in her fatigued gloom, had continued to sway forward.

She would have let herself keep falling; the ground looked like a much better option than forcing herself to stay on her feet any longer.

"Why did you stop?" The vampire grumbled, leaning heavily to the right, and so the Dragonborn kept her hands planted on Serana's shoulders.

Though her vision was a little blurry, Serana saw a small smile on the Dragonborn's lips.

"I thought I saw a dog." The woman answered in an almost sing-song voice, a sort of happiness that the vampire had never seen before sparkling in her amber eyes.

Any other day, Serana would have been warmed head-to-aching-toe at such a pleasant feeling radiating off the normally stoic mortal, but right now all she could offer was a weary sigh.

"You.. stopped.. because...you thought you saw a dog?" Serana returned, blinking sluggishly back at the smiling woman.

The Dragonborn nodded in reply, eyes darting to the side, somewhere past the disoriented vampire, and her expression lit up even further.

"Oh, there he is!" The mortal woman declared, abandoning Serana to step behind her.

The vampire tilted in response to her absence, but now curious of the woman's current source of fascination, she caught herself and stood straight.

Serana turned on her heel to see the Dragonborn crouching, balanced on the toes of her feet to be eye-level with a ragged-looking, brown dog that stood half-way in the forest brush at the edge of the road.

Carefully, the mortal stretched her arm outward to invite it closer, which the dog responded to by timidly approaching.

"Hey there," The Dragonborn greeted the mutt in a soft voice, her friendly tone and the gentle touch of her hand brushing one of its ears making the dog's tail wag.

Serana quirked a brow, shaking her head briefly. What the hell was going on? She was treating this mongrel with the tenderness of a mother.

 _I am_ not _jealous of a dog._ The Volkihar vampire insisted to herself fiercely, standing in the same place the woman had left her and observing as the Dragonborn lifted her other hand to the dog's head to stroke it.

"Oh, it looks like you have a collar," The mortal woman spoke, and Serana squinted at the mess of hair that the dog possessed, only able to see it for herself when the Dragonborn slipped her slender fingers beneath it. A sloppy scrawl of letters were carved into the notched scrap of leather, "Meeko." The Dragonborn read it aloud for her.

 _Meeko? What a weird name._ Serana commented inwardly, feeling herself slouch. _Gods, I'm so tired._

She focused on the Dragonborn again, who went on petting the dog, but now her eyes appeared slightly.. watery? Was she crying? Over the dog? What?

The vampire raised her knuckles to her mouth, muffling her words behind them as she tried not to chuckle. Laughing right now would probably hurt more than it was worth. "Are you crying?"

The Dragonborn unhanded Meeko, using one of her forearms to wipe furiously at her eyes.

"No." She retorted quickly, rising from her crouch and tilting her chin upward, away from the dog. She blinked rapidly, tears starting to spill over her eyelashes and onto her cheeks.

 _Are you sure?_ Was what Serana had been planning to ask, her lips parted and ready to speak the words, but the mortal woman sneezed abruptly before she could.

The vampire was left speechless for a couple of seconds, before a wide smile began forming on her mouth, and she barked with laughter.

It hurt, her lungs straining against her ribcage and expending whatever precious energy she did have, but Serana was too delighted to care.

The Dragonborn glared briefly at her, a stream of tears now almost to her chin, before sneezing again. She tried backing away from Meeko, but the dog followed, and the vampire was able to piece together was what happening.

"You're allergic to dogs?" Serana asked breathlessly between her gradually calming laughter, one of her arms cradling her smarting torso.

The Dragonborn cupped a hand over her nose, facing Serana with her brows furrowed.

"Yes," She admitted tearfully, a defeated look crossing the parts of her face that the vampire could see. "I love them, but their fur..." Her eyes snapped shut as she sneezed once more.

Oh, this was just too cute. And too perfect for Serana to pass up the opportunity of teasing her about it.

"That is just, _tragic_." The vampire lamented, coming to her side, where Meeko stood awaiting more attention at their feet. Serana lowered to a crouch, and the dog was more than happy to let her thread her fingers through his tangled pelt in place of the Dragonborn.

The mortal put some distance between herself and Meeko, watching as Serana cooed to the dog and smoothed out his fur until his tail was swaying back and forth vigorously. Smugly, the vampire turned to her.

The Dragonborn wiped at her eyes again, looking more like a sad puppy than Meeko could ever hope to accomplish.

"You're so mean." She told Serana.

"Are you actually crying now?" The vampire shot back, her smirk growing sharper.

"You're _so_ mean." The Dragonborn repeated.


	14. Chasing Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serana has indicated her desire to locate her estranged mother, Valerica, who has fled Castle Volkihar with one of the Elder Scrolls. She believes that Valerica may have left a clue to her whereabouts somewhere in the courtyard of the castle. In order to avoid detection by the castle's vampires, she's decided to utilize a hidden entrance on the back side of the island._

Serana braced her body against the iron door, its hinges rusted and creaking in complaint from centuries of disuse. Cobwebs tearing from the frame and a rush of fresh seashore air blasting her, the vampire pushed the small door inward to step into Volkihar Courtyard.

The sight that greeted her tugged the ancient vampire's heart.

"Oh no.." Serana murmured, the presence of her mortal companion momentarily forgotten as she left the shadowed doorway behind with slow steps. The sliver of the moon shone weakly through the thick gray clouds overhead, doing no justice to the wretched state of Valerica's long-abandoned garden.

This was a place that held many precious memories. It was the last place she felt truly at ease, as if there were no troubles in all of Nirn. It was a place she had once used to escape her father, as he descended further and further into madness. It was a place she had bonded with her detached mother over alchemy and necromancy.

The massive walls looming over Serana all on sides had once been a protective shield from the cruelty of the outside world.. but now... They felt like a tomb.

Branches of twisted, once blossoming trees hung languidly, their bark withered and miserable looking. Weeds had gone wild, choking the patches of earth where rows of brightly-colored flowers had thrived. Mushrooms had sprouted in deserted plant pots, and jagged pieces of terracotta were littered in the brown grass. The balcony where Serana had shared tea and recipes with her mother was an ivy-covered, crumbling mess.

To see the garden in such a pitiful state was a little heartbreaking.

 _What happened to this place?_ She lamented inwardly, hoping to relieve the heavy pull in her chest by folding her pale hands over her unbeating heart.

Serana came to a stop, before the Moon Dial in the center of the garden, swamped in ivy and cracked in several places.

The mage light lanterns she and her mother had strung up, Valerica's single prototype gargoyle, gone. The courtyard was ravaged, as if _someone_ had blown through like a twister. Serana had a clear idea who that someone was, the same someone who must have ordered the pathway to the garden to be blocked off by a wall of bricks.

Serana released a heavy breath that thankfully took some of the tightness clenching her stomach with it. _What happened to this place?_ As if she had to ask.

_Father.. Why? When did everything start going wrong?_

Her head cleared, though the feeling of misfortune very present, the vampire remembered the visitor she had brought to such a cherished place.

"Harkon's torn this place apart. It looks so dead." She spoke in a meek voice, able to sense the mortal standing not too far behind her.

When she was certain the stinging in the corners of her eyes wasn't going to result in tears, Serana cast a glance over her shoulder. The Dragonborn stood in front of the door that had just went through, her amber eyes clouded with distress. "Do you have an idea how magnificent something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years?"

The woman still had no words to give, and how could she? Serana longed to share the grace Valerica's garden had possessed once upon a time with her mortal friend. She had hoped that perhaps.. the woman would be able to understand just _why_ this garden had been so precious to her.

"This was place was very beautiful, once." Valerica would have hated to see her garden like this.

The mortal never answered her. Serana did not blame her.

Arms wrapped tightly around her middle, the vampire let her eyes wander downward to the center piece of the courtyard.

The Moon Dial. It had once been a Sun Dial, but Valerica had remodeled it herself to suit her nocturnal habits. Instead of sunlight, moonlight guided its hand. But..

Around the large stone hand was a circle of the cycles of the moon, made of shining blue crystal. Several of the moonstones were missing, leaving indents in the stone.

"It's missing some parts." Serana looked to the source of the voice, the mortal having followed her to the dial.

Serana could not find the will to be irritated, that those were the first words the Dragonborn had uttered instead of _some_ attempt at comfort. It was just her personality, she supposed. Serana smiled lightly, though it was fleeting.

The vampire glanced back down to observe each individual empty space that created a gap in the pattern. "Yes," She sighed, lowering to a crouch to touch the glossy surface of the closest circular stone. "I did not even know they could be removed. Perhaps my mother did it, maybe..."

The Dragonborn abruptly let out a startled breath.

"Serana.." The mortal spoke her name in a grave tone, a tone that had the Volkihar vampire's blood running as cold as the Skyrim tundra. A metallic _shing_ sounded as the Dragonborn freed her ebony sword from the sheathe hanging off her hip.

 _No... no, no, no no no.._ Slowly, Serana lifted her gaze from the Moon Dial. There were shadows all throughout the courtyard, they had appeared from out of thin air it seemed. She recognized some faces, Orthjolf, Vingalmo, Garan, every last one of them and their lackeys armed to the teeth. She and the Dragonborn were surrounded; they had walked right into an ambush.

 _I played right into his hands..._ The Volkihar heiress shot to her feet, already grasping the hilt of her own dagger, a fog of frost forming a cloud over her free hand. She felt a weight against her shoulders, the Dragonborn, covering her blind spot. _Dammit! I should have known!_

Harkon was a lot more cunning than Serana ever cared to give him credit for; he'd probably suspected the same about Valerica possessing one of the Scrolls, and most likely expected she and the Dragonborn to just lead him right to it.

The circle of vampires tightened, Serana suppressing a hiss at the insufferably smug sight of Orthjolf breaking from the crowd to stalk forward. Vingalmo was quick to his side, always prepared to one-up his rival, though seemed more subdued. His expression remained a severe frown compared to the bearded Nord's condescending smirk.

"We have orders to take you both alive," The Nord vampire broke the silence that had settled in the courtyard, Vingalmo's look hardening at the sound of it. Maybe he was planning to speak first.

"So why not make this easy for all of us, and surrender?" Orthjolf sent a threatening flash of his teeth with that, the tip of his sword pointing lazily in their direction.

Serana heard an unflattering, though feminine snort behind her. She could feel the shift of the mortal's muscles, flush against her own back, as the woman spoke over her shoulder. "As if we'd ever surrender to the likes of you, you sniveling milk-drinker."

The red-haired vampire was instantly bristling and advancing forward with a chorus of muffled snickers or growls behind him, though before Serana could so much as lift a finger she felt herself being whirled around by the lithe body against her own. The courtyard was a grey blur as her vision spun, and suddenly she found herself facing the completely opposite way, the impact of skin meeting skin cracking in her ears.

As soon as Orthjolf's surprised grunt of pain left him, all hell broke loose.

Stalf, the Nord vampire's faithful confidant, was the first to lunge, his iron sword seeking the Dragonborn's head. Serana was lost to the crowd, instinctively dropping close to the ground as the Dragonborn rolled her own way with a midnight flash of her sword.

Stalf's was the first scream of many, a gush of crimson splattering the withered brown grass of the garden.

It was an all out swarm of blades, magic, and claws, Serana impaling vampire after vampire with shards of ice, all while avoiding the grabbing hands and fists plunging for her gut.

They really were not trying to kill her, she realized, ducking sideways to escape the charge of a male vampire attempting to tackle her into the ground. The frost in her palm flared, before plunging a spearhead of magical ice into his back. His form lurched, gurgling on his own blood before going limp.

The Dragonborn, on the other hand..

The mortal weaved like a serpent across the battlefield, successfully countering the swings the lesser vampires took for her, all while being chased by both Vingalmo and Orthjolf.

Bodies after bodies were left in the wake of her warpath, fallen with a single slash across their chests and throats and a spray of blood. Nearly half of the ambush they had arrived to were dead by her skill with a sword alone, and the Dragonborn had not even used one flicker of magic.

The pair of constantly-bickering rivals were obviously growing frustrated, their bad blood doing no justice for their supposed teamwork. They were completely uncoordinated, and paying for it with each clumsy swing or accidental collision with each other.

Vingalmo thrust himself in front of Orthjolf, arcing a heavy downward slash with this blade, though was instantly knocked backward by the open-palmed shove the Dragonborn delivered with her free hand, right back into his red-haired rival.

The two male vampires stumbled, piercing the other with fierce glares, their spaces instantly filled by the surrounding Volkihar court members. Having defeated the small crowd of enemies sent after her, Serana stood forgotten by the balcony's stairs, a charged ice spike waiting in her palm.

The Dragonborn moved so fast and erratically, Serana was a little afraid she would end up spearing her instead, red eyes tracking the impossibly fast swings of her sword. The Volkihar court was dropping like flies right before her.

Rather than the mortal, Serana turned to her father's two right hands, currently entangled with the other on the brown grass and spitting curses back and forth.

A foot long icicle had pierced Vingalmo straight through the shoulder when a wave of bodies were sent sprawling by the sudden shout cracking the air like a roll of thunder, drowning out the master vampire's screams. _"Fus Ro Dah!"_

Serana's head snapped around to the source of it past the scattered vampires spread all around the courtyard. Several bodies were bent at awkward angles, their necks and limbs twisted. The Dragonborn stood at the center of the calamity, and Serana jolted at the tiny trickle of blood she could see trailing down the woman's face. Some lucky fool must have managed to land a hit.

The Volkihar heiress met the gaze of her mortal friend with words of worry on her tongue, though the Dragonborn beat her to it with a cry of her own.

"Stand back, Serana!" The Dragonborn commanded, far too blithe about the fresh cut now over her half-closed right eye. With a confused look, Serana complied, pressing against the grime-covered railing of the courtyard balcony.

" _Wuld,_ " Oh. _Oh._ Eyes widening, Serana shrunk closer against the stone. " _Nah Kest!_ " The ensuing shock wave of the shout hit her like the raging ocean, though the other vampires received the full brunt of it and were sent flying once again just as the surviving stragglers had gotten back to their feet.

All except Orthjolf, and Vingalmo's own servant Salonia. The mer vampire writhed on the ground, clutching the shard of ice stabbed through him, Orthjolf looming above and Salonia using the master vampire's chest as support against the surge of magic.

The Dragonborn appeared at the far end of the courtyard, stumbling slightly on landing much to Serana's concern. Her chest was heaving at this point, quickly turning herself to face the remaining three Volkihar court members. Her empty hand cradled her own throat, where the stream of blood from her eye streamed down into the collar of her Nightingale armor.

 _Dammit, woman._ Serana's frost magic surged in between her fingers, a menacing ball of purple light gathering among her others. There must be a limit to her Thu'um, and shouting in such short succession would certainly be a huge strain.

"Go!" Orthjolf, inky trails of blood gushing from his nose, hissed with a harsh shove to Salonia's shoulder, causing the female vampire to lurch ahead while the mortal readied herself by grasping the hilt of her sword with both hands.

A nearby corpse, glowing a faint blue, materialized in front of the Dragonborn to clash with the female vampire. Startled amber eyes peered past the resurrected Volkihar vampire to its mistress, Serana, releasing her fully formed ice spike toward the now occupied Salonia's back.

With a glare of silver, the icicle was shattered into glittering shards by Orthjolf's sword, a blond-and-black shadow shooting past him. With a sharp inhale, Serana's eyes darted to the spot Vingalmo had been laying just a moment before.

It was empty, besides the crimson splotch staining the dully-colored grass and the half-melted icicle near it.

Locks of her black hair swirling with the turn of her head, Serana's gaze returned just in time to witness her reanimation have its torso sliced in half and implode into a pile of iridescent ashes.

Vingalmo moved swiftly despite the jagged gaping hole in his shoulder, iron blade biting through the puff of dust and slamming into the mortal's instinctive raise of her own weapon. The Dragonborn winced due to the backlash of it, her stance wavering as the mer vampire threw all this strength into his sword.

Serana shot forward, drawing her Elven dagger, but not even her inhuman speed could have her reach the mortal fast enough.

Surely for once in all their thousands of years of bitterness, the two rival vampires were able to pull off some semblance of harmony; Orthjolf charging from the left, Salonia from the right, Vingalmo forcing the mortal woman backward with her heels digging into the dirt. The Dragonborn had no chance to escape it, before twin blades skewered her through like a fresh horker steak.

"No!" Serana's scream fell on deaf ears, even to her own, time feeling as if it drug along for ages as she crossed the courtyard, unable to tear her eyes away from the horrifying sight.

The Dragonborn, two swords impaling her abdomen diagonally, blade locked in place with Vingalmo's. Her body constricting with a gasping, pained breath, the woman released the hilt of her sword with one hand, jabbing the flat of her fingers into Vingalmo's throat.

The mer vampire choked, stumbling backward.

The moment the Dragonborn's ebony sword was freed, her arm arced backward. Salonia's decapitated head rolled, Serana and the Dragonborn's movements a blur alike.

Her worry replaced with rage, the Volkihar heiress caught the doubled-over Vingalmo by the lapels of his armor, dragging him straight into the plunge of her dagger.

The Dragonborn tore Salonia's abandoned sword from herself as she rounded on the Nord, her cry of pain stabbing Serana right in the heart while Vingalmo's body curled around her short blade.

Orthjolf took full advantage of the mortal's sluggishness, pulling his intruding sword free before ducking beneath the next slash of the woman's sword with incredible agility. Down on one leg, the Nord drove his blade into the back of the Dragonborn's thigh, piercing it completely through.

With another strained gasp, the mortal collapsed to the courtyard grass, leaning on her ebony sword stabbed into the earth before her.

Serana couldn't stop herself from diverting her attention in worry, her hold on Vingalmo loosening enough for the master vampire to overtake her. Her right wrist was twisted sideways, the handle of her Elven dagger slipping from her fingers and a pallid hand wrapping around her throat.

Serana herself was forced to her knees, only able to watch as a sword hilt was brought across the back of the mortal's unprotected skull. She still only watched, as the mortal crumpled, numb, numb enough to barely feel the vice-like hands trapping her own arms behind her back in a bruising grip.

"My deepest apologies, Lady Serana." She heard at her back, before she too, was struck and thrust into an explosion of stars.

* * *

_"Does Harkon even care about you?"_

_The question was startling to say the least, though Serana dared not show the impact it had on her. It was the very thought that had lurked in the back of her head, both before and after being locked in that accursed crypt. It was a touchy one, the answer more than capable enough of crushing her nonexistent, but fragile soul to bits._

_Serana refused to face the Dragonborn, knowing all too well that she hadn't a snowball's chance in hell of lying straight through her teeth with those fiery eyes boring into her own._

_The vampire had taken an intense interest in the hay-peppered floor, unable to wipe away the sardonic frown pulling down the corners of her lips. "You know.." A sigh. The heavy sigh escaping her lungs was like a powerful wave crashing into her shaky floodgate. "I've asked myself the same thing. I thought.. I hoped that he would feel_ something _, anything when he saw me again." It felt like it was on the verge of bursting._

_Steeling herself by conjuring up an impassive mask to conceal the hurt so deeply rooted within her, Serana's red eyes rose to the pitying gaze of the mortal. "Though I suppose I don't really factor in with his life anymore, at this point."_

_His estranged, prodigal daughter had returned to him at last, and all Harkon had eyes for was the Elder Scroll strapped over her back. Serana held a bitter, and probably accurate thought that a Horker could have lumbered into the Castle with the very same scroll, and Harkon would have treated it like a king before retrieving his prize and stabbing it through the back._

S _erana was simply a pawn, a messenger, a chess piece in Valerica and Harkon's game._

_"I don't even think he sees me as his daughter anymore. I'm just a means to an end." The vampire admitted, and it was like a metaphorical sword plunging into her gut. But it was true, she had every shred of evidence for it, but.. she didn't ... want.._

_A reassuring weight had fallen onto her shoulder, a touch that Serana would gladly welcome. And there was the fire, the fire in those eyes that she forced herself to meet. "It sounds to me like he needs a firm reminder, then." The Dragonborn spoke, her words spreading a warm clarity throughout the vampire's cold, dead heart. "And I'll be the one to beat it into him, I promise, you that, Serana." She concluded with a consoling, gentle smile._

_Serana returned it, though a small part inside her wished she'd never even crossed paths with such an amazing woman. Serana was going to be the end of the mortal, she could feel it twisting in the pit of her stomach. Even so, she made a vow of her own._ I promise, Dragonborn, I promise I won't let him hurt you like he has hurt me.

_The promise would slip through her fingers like sand, breaking apart in the palms of her dishonest hands._

* * *

Serana awoke in her room, the back of her skull radiating with a sharp and throbbing pain.

She lay straight as board, the sheets of her bed a cushion beneath her body, and a pillow cradling her aching head. Despite the serenity of her position, the vampire shot upright as soon as her swimming mind had regained consciousness.

 _The courtyard! I was in the courtyard.. and.. and.._ A deep confusion setting in, the female vampire's eyes wandered around the chambers, fingers clutching at the bedspread she sat upon. _What..?_

Her room.. she was in her room, in Castle Volkihar. Her untouched room, not a thing out of place.. it was almost as if.. she'd never left? The arcane enchanter against the left wall, her potions, her soul gems, right where she remembered them to be. Her wardrobe stood against the right wall, and beside it, a vanity.

Serana caught her reflection in the shining glass of the vanity's mirror.

Was this even real? Had it all been a dream? Was she going utterly mad? A pale hand rose, gingerly ghosting over the stinging area of her head. With a wince, Serana jerked it away. This was certainly real.. no it couldn't have..

The female vampire watched her own red eyes widen in alarm when a thought, or rather the thought of a person, struck her. The Dragonborn! _No, no nono!_

"Ah, so you have woken at last." A chillingly familiar male voice nearly had Serana leaping from her skin with a shriek. She managed to keep herself from doing so, only flinching violently as she twisted her head around to locate the speaker.

She could feel her unbeating heart drop to her stomach, spotting Harkon at the end of the room, standing in the shadow of her impressive book case.

His expression was by no means fatherly. Her basic flight or fight instincts urging her to scramble backwards as far as she could, Serana anchored herself in place with all her will as her father approached with a deliberate, almost predatory pace.

"Father." Was all she said, her voice strangled with the effort of smothering her rapidly rising fear, for herself, as well as for her mortal friend. Lord Harkon came a halt at the foot of her bed. Serana shrunk into herself as he neared, pulling her knees toward herself.

Lord Harkon looked down his nose at her, red eyes hooded and practically glowing with anger. His hands were folded behind his back, no doubt locked firmly together and crushing the other to keep his fury at bay.

Bravely, his estranged daughter held his gaze, a challenge in her eyes, though he could most definitely hear the erratic thumps coming from her usually motionless chest.

"I'm going to ask this once, my darling," Biting back a reflexive, sarcastic reply, Serana allowed herself to sneer at the affectionate pet name her father used. Though any further defiance was crushed as the man nearly twice her size loomed over her.

"Where is the Elder Scroll?" Her father drawled in a low voice that had Serana wishing he would just scream at her and threaten her already. His calm exterior was just a mask concealing the fury boiling beneath.

Serana was terrified. Completely, utterly terrified. She did not have what he wanted, and hopefully he'd never get his wretched hands on it again. Of course that boon came with a cost, she was no longer valuable to him.. Serana was not his daughter, she was a pawn in his eyes, but not even that at this point without the Scroll.

Her undead heart was slowing, though still beating a mile a minute in her father's shadow; regardless, Serana turned her chin up haughtily. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she answered, the fingers she had gripping her knees so tightly sure to leave bruises on her pale skin. "Did you think we were complete morons? It's not here. It's somewhere you'll never find it."

Silence. The silence that choked her chambers was suffocating. Harkon stood, as emotionless as stone in that position, looking down at her. Serana could not regain control of the trembling of her body, already imagining the impending explosion of anger bubbling behind that placid expression.

Her resolve was disintegrating the longer the quiet drug along, eyes frantically searching her father's face for any sort of reaction. When he shifted at last to draw in a long and unnecessary breath, Serana jerked, arms already detaching themselves from her legs to block the blow.

Harkon had not even raised a finger. His eyes were closed.

 _What..? He's not..?_ Serana was nearly gasping at this point, the adrenaline driving her senses and emotions berserk. She had been certain he would do.. something..

"I'm disappointed, Serana." Harkon suddenly spoke in an even voice, and Serana could have nearly brought herself to crumble into nervous laughter. That was not the first time she had heard those words. "You've let that mortal worm her way into your head, haven't you? What kinds of lies has she been feeding you?"

Serana instantly felt her own expression sour at the mention of the Dragonborn. She _would_ defend the woman, even if her bipolar father was the one doing the insulting.

"Though, even with such a sharp mind," Harkon huffed humorlessly, gesturing to her bookcase. Serana followed the movement, eyes narrowing in puzzlement. "...you never were one to think for yourself, were you?" Her father's sunglow eyes flashed when the bitter words left him, and his daughter felt another shudder across her skin.

He meant Valerica, of course. _Of course_ her father was still resentful over her allegiance to her mother, but he hadn't given her a choice! He had been teetering on the edge back then, and when his only child chose his wife over him, he snapped like a brittle twig.

If wasn't as if she had followed her mother blindly! Serana was furious with her mother and her actions, but not to the murderous degree that her father had degenerated to after a thousand years of separation.

Her pride was far too healthy to let Harkon get away with this, and indignantly, Serana tried to talk back: "That's not-"

Harkon interrupted with a scolding _tsk_. "Serana, don't you know it's unbecoming to play with your food?" Her father drawled in a terribly caustic tone, a cruel smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

Fury struck her like a lightning bolt, electrifying her heart and drowning her fear. Her thoughts clouded in a red haze, Serana let the first words that came to mind escape her:

" _Fuck you_ , Father." She hissed scathingly in reply.

The sharp _crack_ that shattered the stillness of the room was the back of Lord Harkon's hand coming in contact with Serana's cheek.

The force of the strike was incredible enough to snatch the female vampire's head to the side, pain exploding down the right side of her face. A strangled gasp escaped her, the powerful hit having stolen the breath right from Serana's lungs.

 _He.. he.. actually.. did it.._ No matter how far she had pushed him in the past, Harkon had never raised his hand to her, though... she may have deserved this. Serana had never spoken to either of her parents like that before.

The gust of air produced by a cape and the sound of fading footsteps registered faintly in Serana's ears. "Very well. Let's see what your little mortal pet has to say on the matter of that Elder Scroll."

Still reeling, Serana's hand clutched one of her bedposts, the other cradling her stinging cheek. Harkon's crimson and black figure was stalking through her open door and sweeping out of her line of sight.

 _My.. pet?_ It took a good second for the words to sink into her scattered brain, and when they did she slid off her rumpled bed to stumble shakily for the darkened doorway. Colliding with the frame and pushing off of it, the Volkihar heiress shot down the deserted hallway like a bat out of hell.

* * *

The Dragonborn awoke in an unfamiliar room, a fireplace crackling across from her, and a sharp pain throbbing across the back of her head.

Her first thought, was _wow_ , everything hurts. Her insides were _on fire_ ; she could feel the frigid bite of her drying, though still flowing blood down her torso. Her shoulders and arms ached, suspended over her head by what she could only assume were chains, the icy metal cutting in the skin of her wrists. The hole in her thigh, all that damn Orthjolf's fault, stung in the smoke-riddled air of the chambers.

As her mind, foggy with her discomfort and clouded by misery, cleared she gave the metal shackles an experimental tug. Chain links rattled, but they did not yield to her.

Instantly, she felt a spark of irrational anger overpower the torment of her wounds.

 _I can break these stupid things easily, who was the dimwit that even bothered.._ Her bloodied, thin fingers grasping at the links that were in her reach, the Dragonborn gathered the magic within her, and focused a blast of frost onto the metal. Stubbornly, she blocked out the intense twinge spiking all across her abdomen the movement brought on.

All she had to do was weaken the iron enough, then tug with all her might. The chains would shatter like glass!

Her newly-discovered determination faltered a split-second later. She should really try using her magic for more practical purposes, like healing herself.. but..

 _No! I can do this! These cuts are nothing!_ In the meantime, the lionhearted woman assessed her situation. She should have been scared out of her mind, and yet she kept control of herself, chained to the wall of an unknown room. Her thoughts wandered, only for a certain vampire, Serana.

Was she alright? Where was she?

Maintaining a steady flow of the destruction magic to the metal binding her, half-lidded amber eyes scanned the room.

Before the fireplace stood two illustrious-looking seats, thrones perhaps. The room was as pitch black as the night, the only light being the feeble glow of the flames that only reached as far as the opposite wall. The shadows smothered it before it could go further, illuminating the single table in the center of the chambers. A large, human-sized cage stood against the wall on the other side of it.

It was an alarming enough sight to give her pause, though she quickly recovered. She was in a vampires' lair after all, and besides, she had seen plenty of more macabre things in her short life as the hero of legend.

The Dragonborn returned her attention to the peculiar lone table. Its surface was covered with.. varying tools of gruesome intentions.

A flash of unease finally turned her stomach at the sight of the various torture instruments, though the Dragonborn suppressed it stubbornly.

She felt her reserves of magicka deplete at the same moment her concentration had been broken, the frost spell dying her awkward grip. Her skin prickled with the sensation of metallic-smelling liquid dripping through the openings of her armor. If she did not do something soon, she could very well bleed out here.

But, _no_. She was fine. Everything was fine. She would find a way to worm out of this, like she always managed to. She had somehow survived the chopping block back in Helgen, so this? This was nothing.

The woman gave another forceful tug to the chains, pleased to hear the tinny creaking of the links. _Just a little bit more.._

The Dragonborn still tried to convince herself that she was not afraid when the creaking of an old door announced the arrival of her first visitor. She tracked his progress in the darkness by the pair of red eyes piercing into her from her prone position trapped to the wall. Her escape plan was momentarily forgotten.

She wanted to leap right off this no-doubt red-soaked wall and deck him. The frost-licked chains holding her in place disagreed.

 _He_ strode into her field of vision, the soft flickering light blocked by his broad body. The Dragonborn tried to convince herself that she was not frightened even as the blackness cornered her.

"Well, well," A deep voice purred from the body preventing the soothing light from falling on her. She could scarcely make out the hungry grin spread across his face in the dark. "Look at this predicament you've gotten yourself into, Dragonborn." Lord Harkon spoke with a condescending rumble, red eyes not looking at her face, but downward.

A vampire stood in front of her, where was chained to the wall and most certainly sodden with her own blood.

She swore that these vampires somehow had a sixth sense: a Dragonborn-detection one.

"How could you..?" The woman tested her voice, pleased to find that it was steady. The Vampire Lord's nose visibly flared, drawing in a deep inhale.

The smile the vampire lord wore was positively wicked at this point.

"I wasn't sure, until now." The Dragonborn pressed her lips together, all too mindful of the growing ball of anxiety gathering in her chest. Her abdomen throbbed with an increasingly agonizing stabbings of pain. "Though I have suspected something like it, since the moment we met you were so.. enchanting."

This was.. not good.. _Obviously!_ The Dragonborn allowed herself a calming breath, attempting to block out the absurdity of his words entirely. She was fine.. fine... her breathing hitched, chest tightening and her body threatening to retch at the presence of blood rising up her throat. She gulped.

Her inner mantra was broken by the rough, calloused hand that seized her chin, effectively forcing her attention to fall upon its owner.

The unwelcome touch immediately began ringing alarms in her head. _No, no, no, not again. She was not a helpless victim anymore! She could.. fight.. back..._ A tiny startled breath came from the Dragonborn at the sudden contact. The action produced a shudder that erupted cramps and stabs of misery all through her middle.

"It was your magical aura, lively and pulsing with an ancient power, much like my own." Harkon hummed in an irritatingly wistful tone.

The fingers tightening and pressing into her jaw was a welcome distraction from the discomfort threatening to split her stone mask in two.

Automatically the mortal woman hardened her eyes through the pain, currently locked with the vampire lord's red stare. The menacing color was not as welcoming for Harkon, as it was for his daughter.

"Don't compare yourself to me. We are nothing alike." Her voice remained at its solid pitch, detached and uninterested. Harkon's cold fingers felt as if they were going to leave burn marks across her skin.

Harkon's much larger body shook with an apologetic chuckle, his unwanted touch falling away much to her relief. The Dragonborn released a feeble breath she was not aware she had been holding.

"What matters is that you carry the blood of dragons." He spoke with a flourish of his arms, far too fond of melodrama for the Dragonborn's taste.

 _The souls of dragons, actually._ The woman grimaced. Of course, another vampire after her blood.. Serana she could tolerate, but her deranged father...

"You want my blood?" She retorted through gritted teeth, wondering how serious it was how blurry her vision was growing.

She could practically feel her energy seeping from her much like the blood now running down her legs. She could _feel_ herself dying.

Harkon chuckled darkly again, face turned away as he stepped backward. He stood sideways, and took a step, then another. Pacing before her, a strangely contemplative expression twisting his face, Harkon clasped his palms together. "Why, yes, as well as every vampire in Skyrim, I assume," A cruel smirk had replaced the innocent look, leering down at her. "Including my lovely daughter."

The Dragonborn's immediate response was an indignant huff.

 _Yes, Serana wants my blood, but she would never take it by force.. unlike you.._ This had gone on long enough, she was fed up with this shut-in and his delusions of grandeur. Harkon was nothing. She could defeat him, and she could do it with her own life-force pouring from her stomach and still chained to this Gods-damned wall!

The Dragonborn drew in a long, slow inhale, which Harkon observed with a look of slight bewilderment. She was going to enjoy watching him burn like a strip of tinder.

" _Yol.._ " The Vampire Lord's red eyes widened for that fraction of a second before the Dragonborn completed her shout. " _Toor Shul!_ "

The white-hot blast of fire illuminated the shadowed room, filling the space before her in a blinding flash. Through the flames flowing past her lips, the woman's mouth curled upward through the fierce turmoil coursing into her muscles due to the activity.

The moment she realized that no one was screaming, the Dragonborn knew she was in trouble.

Suddenly, Harkon was there, standing over her, a hand on either side of her head against the brick wall. She twitched, her body instinctively shrinking back as the last of her divine fire dissipated into the air.

"Naughty, naughty." Harkon spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, his sneering face close, too close. The shoulder pads of his armor were steaming, the fabric churning at the edges with orange embers.

The Dragonborn refused to acknowledge the cold sweat currently trailing down the nape of her neck, clenching her teeth with a scowl. That Shout had taken almost all that was left of her strength, but.. maybe he was too fast for her to hit, but she didn't _have_ to fight her way free.

The woman's throat burned and her muscles screamed, but she spoke anyway. " _Fiem-_ "

A fist lunged, straight into her wounded stomach with a crushing force behind it, effectively choking the mortal on her own Shout. It took all of her might not to cry out, heaving past the agony that the hit had caused.

"I am a man of little patience," The Dragonborn heard Harkon drone out the words, gasping with her lungs searing from the crippling pain.

"And it is just _burning_ , in the back of my mind: what must you taste like?" The Dragonborn gulped like a slaughterfish out of water for her stolen breath, trying to gather enough energy to resume the Become Ethereal shout.

But something happened before she could pull herself back together.

It went by too quickly for the Dragonborn to even react. Somehow, she had been pinned completely to the wall, the nearness causing her back to mechanically arch as she fought to still herself and avoid crashing into it. The intuitive action had her body wailing with torment, pressed to another.

Her senses continued to scream, being bombarded with the sweeping actions, when she felt a frigid hand roughly grab her chin for the second time that evening, tilting her face up and dragging it closer.

The fingers that held her were harsh and unforgiving. The Dragonborn could already feel the strain tugging at her muscles, and she was certain that if they remained much longer they would leave bruises. And she felt the lips, the foreign feeling of another mouth trying to claim ownership of her own in a tainting, dominating kiss.

 _Harkon.. Harkon is kissing me._ The dumbfounded thought was all she could collect of her horrified conscious, though her wired body reacted for her. Trapped between the vampire lord and the wall however, all she could do was squirm, testing the strength of the chains, and the man holding her in place against her will.

 _No, no, never again!_ She vowed never to be preyed upon like this again!

There had to be something she could do, using her legs, her magic, or.. _A shout!_ Her eyelids were like lead and her lungs were begging for a recharging breath, but regardless she was going to send a jet of divine magic straight down this bastard's throat.

Her mouth, which she had kept pressed in a firm line through the duration of Harkon's unwanted affections, parted slightly, but before the mortal could even consider which shout to use, a sharp pain was pinching her bottom lip.

Much too sharp teeth sliced in her skin, drawing out a rush of red that invaded her own mouth. Her tongue tingling with the coppery taste of blood, the Dragonborn was unable to stop the startled gasp that escaped her.

The vampire lord had bitten her, and now, a tongue was gliding over the newly created cut to gather the crimson steadily dripping from it.

Her heart thudding painfully in her chest, and body burning with mixture of embarrassment and rage, the Dragonborn bit him right back. With an audible growl rolling up from her scorched throat, the Dragonborn lunged, clamping down furiously on the vampire's wandering tongue.

The blood that flooded her mouth was the blackest, foulest thing she'd ever had the displeasure of tasting. It was enough to force out a startled grunt from the vampire lord, who immediately pulled away. The mortal released his tongue, trying to keep herself from gagging due the mingled taste of their combined blood on her taste buds.

She barely possessed the vigor to do so, but the Dragonborn raised her eyes to meet Harkon's, expecting anger, but not this.

A trail of black dribbling from his lips down to his chin, the vampire lord shook with hearty, borderline psychotic laughter. Scowling with disgust, the Dragonborn gathered the blood swimming in her mouth, and spat it to the shadowed floor at his feet, though the defiant action was followed by a distressed grunt. Her toes were numb, the worrisome needle-prick feeling steadily traveling up her calf.

Harkon rounded on her once more the second it met with the ground.

"I have a proposition for you, Dragonborn." His voice boomed throughout the large room, alive with the adrenaline of the situation. "I'll give you another chance: accept my blood and become my progeny, or die here, a heroic end of _bleeding out_."

Her temple pounding, her lips dripping red along with her stomach.. she was hardly in a position to refuse any sort of mercy he had to offer.

"Not a chance in Hell." The Dragonborn hissed through a swollen lip, her own blood making a path similar to his down her chin.

There was a flurry of movement, chains rattling, and the support holding her upright was gone. The Dragonborn sank to her knees, the agonizing jolt of her stomach squeezing another grunt from her. Forcing herself though it, she lifted her trembling palms from the floor. The shackles remained around her wrists, cut-off chain links hanging from their clasps.

She was not given a chance to proceed with her newfound freedom. A large hand wrapped itself around her throat, and she felt her body being drug upward like a rag-doll. When her feet left the ground, the panic she thought she had overcome began seeping into her bones once more.

The Dragonborn clawed at the unwavering grasp encircling her neck, her nails digging into his fingers. Harkon only seemed to clutch tighter the more she resisted.

She then noticed the flash of steel, poised in his other hand, and her struggling was brought to a stand-still. The blade dipped out of her vision, and although she could not see it, she could feel its razor-sharp point scraping at her already pierced abdomen. The mortal froze, hanging in the vampire lord's hands.

She could _not_ survive another stab wound. She was not sure she would be surviving the two she already had.

"Where is the Elder Scroll?" Her eyes darted, returning to Harkon's face at the sound of his deadpan voice.

The Dragonborn didn't hide her confusion, raising a brow at the sudden change in topic. Is that was this ridiculous interrogation had been all about? He looked to her with an eerily blank expression, a trail of blood slowly travelling from his chin to his collar.

"W-what?" She stuttered, more concerned with the sword ready to run her through. Her slender fingers continued to claw at his hands, but Harkon's grip was like a lock, she could.. a shout maybe... he was tightening his hold by the second, slowly throttling her.

The pressure was unbearable at this point; her vision even blacker at its edges, her bones leaden with fatigue, and she was afraid. Afraid for her life like she had never been before.

"Ggh.." Her lips parted, begging for the words of salvation at the end of her tongue. _Yol.. Tor.._

It was without warning, the sudden explosion of noise echoing in her now-hazy conscious, the very familiar shout of a female voice and the screech of old metal and ancient wood. The door..?

"Father!" A well-known sound roared in the deathly quiet room, and the Dragonborn felt the Vampire Lord jerk in surprise through the hand clutching her throat.

The mortal knew an opening when she was given one. Burning up the last of her energy in the process, the Dragonborn let her magic loose. She felt the white-hot tendrils of lightning crackling from her fingers, digging into Harkon's own, the resulting flash of light blinding and completely disorienting.

She heard a muffled, deep shout of pain, and felt herself falling. Even through her daze, the Dragonborn let her tormented body roll as she impacted with the grimy stone floor, and she couldn't tell where the misery was coming from at this point. Still, she did not cry out, and instead focused her rapidly fading strength on her stomach. With desperate, jerking motions, the Dragonborn cupped both of her trembling palms against herself, shivering at the liquid squeezing between her fingers.

It was unbelievable, how quickly her life force was rushing from her like a damn waterfall.

 _Shit.. this is bad.. I kinda thought.._ Her inner monologue was interrupted by the scald of blood rising up her throat. The Dragonborn's body constricted with a single cough that splattered red against the soothing, cold floor in front of her. _I figured I'd go out in some blaze of glory.. maybe swallowed by a dragon.. or launched to the moon by a pissed off giant.._

The commotion around her reached her ears through a thick fog of dizziness and pain. She heard a noise, a noise that closely resembled the whistle of one of Serana's ice spikes cutting the air, Harkon's responding hiss, and a thud.

Footsteps were then rattling her skull like an earthquake, her cheek pressed to the icy comfort that the floor of Lord Harkon's chambers provided. Her half-lidded eyes tracked the narrow, black boots gliding over the ground closer and closer toward her. The room was so dark, she was surprised she could see anything.

The Dragonborn's fingers unfurled, too weak to stay in place anymore. Her entire right forearm felt wet. Then the footsteps were pounding closer, thudding to a halt right next to her. It was becoming difficult to keep her eyes open.

The mortal felt herself being moved. The touch clutching her arm, the palm sliding beneath her back, was warming unlike Harkon's. She was pressed into someone, this someone clutching her against them as if their life depended on it.

For a moment, she felt as she were floating, and the pain was growing dimmer, but the relief was quickly replaced by jolts of agony tearing through her with each of her carrier's steps. This lasted for a torturous amount of time, she could not tell how long, but she felt her rescuer stop at last, and a wave of vertigo overtook her as she was lowered back downward to the floor.

She was looking at the ceiling now, a pair of hands that were not her own pressing forcefully into her abdomen. The voice spoke again, so distressed that the Dragonborn couldn't help but feel a tug of sorrow at the sound of it.

 _Wait.. I know that voice.._ Someone appeared above her. A sense of clarity struck her like a slap across the face. _Serana!_

It was Serana. She was here. Momentarily stunned by the female vampire's presence, the dying woman felt her soaked fingers twitch at her sides. She longed to do something, anything to console the vampire, but she no longer possessed the strength to do so. So she tried focusing on her blurry face.

Sad. More specifically, crying. The Dragonborn faintly felt drops of liquid splashing against her skin. Tears. Red eyes widened, perhaps noticing the brightness in the mortal's once glassy ones.

Great, she had made the poor vampire cry. She was so terrible at this "friend" thing.

" _Hey!_ " The female vampire urged; the Dragonborn felt one of the hands against her stomach lift away, and instead find a place cupping her cheek. Serana's palm felt sticky. " _Come on, stay with me._ " The mortal felt herself frown, eyes half-closed, she could hardly keep them open anymore. " _No, you can't!_ " The vampire insisted in a distraught cry, her face leaning closer.

Strangely, the Dragonborn found that she much preferred Serana's face this close to her own instead of Harkon's.

She smiled, a small, pathetic curl of her lips. She tried to speak, anything to comfort the unraveling vampire, though all that left her was a soft groan.

The Volkihar vampire hovered even closer, and the Dragonborn's chest burned with the effort of conjuring up her voice. She couldn't let Serana down, it would be a failure that would follow her into the afterlife if she did.

"Sorry.." Serana's troubled expression was swept up in confusion. Though the one word could have been enough, the woman persuaded another from her failing body. " _Princess_."

And with that, the Dragonborn let her eye lids fall at last.

A delicate, light touch had fallen onto her lips, lingering for a short moment, going tenderly down the edge of her chin, before settling in the crook of her neck.

" _I'm sorry, too._ " She swore she heard someone murmur.. before twin, numbing pinpricks of pain stabbed into her, and her world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Boy I sure do love putting my Dragonborn through hell. But really, she HAD to become a vampire. Otherwise I'd have to tag this necrophilia ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**


	15. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart  
>  I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes  
> With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts  
> Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes"_

The Dragonborn was... dying.

Naively, Serana never thought she would have to face this reality, at least, not so soon.

_Badump. Badump. Badump._

The vampire held her mortal friend, no longer denying the flood of tears that slipped down her cheeks, splashing against a quickly paling, unresponsive face. Her mouth tingled with the taste of the mortal's divine blood, the very blood the vampire had craved since the moment they met, though it was a bitter prick upon her tongue that she would rather spit to the stone floor instead.

_Badump. Badump._

"Not like this..." The vampire choked on her breath, fingers grasping uselessly at the mortal's still body. Her throat raw due to her shameless sobbing, she bent forward to rest her forehead against the woman's feebly moving chest with a shuddering exhale.

"Not like this, _dammit_." The vampire's bloodied palm slithered down, grabbing blindly at the mortal's arm until she located another hand nearly as cold as her own. The Volkihar heiress wormed her fingers in between the woman's stiff ones, and squeezed.

_Badump. Ba..dump._

She was given nothing in return, nothing but the heartbeat that had once thundered like a drum in her ears sounding with pathetic thumps. Serana swallowed her grief, though the tears continued to fall, her other hand shakily lifting to cradle the mortal's cooling cheek. She was disgusted that her palm would leave a red imprint when she pulled away.

_Ba..dump.. Ba..dump.._

With one last, sniffling breath, Serana quieted herself so that the frail thumps pulsing against her own cheek felt much louder. It was almost over.

The vampire held the mortal's hand in a tight, bone-crushing grip. The Dragonborn would not feel it. She would not feel her own life force slipping away as Serana so intimately did, it would be a peaceful death, the vampire had gifted her that much.

_Ba..dump.. Ba...dump.._

Serana slid her eyes shut, the last of her tears gliding free and catching in her lashes. No matter what mercy she had given, it did not change that fact that she had killed her. She _had_ killed her. The mortal would be gone soon, yet the vampire would not be losing her, she'd be preserving her eternity... and yet it felt so incredibly awful.

_Ba...dump.._

Another aching breath leaving her lungs, the vampire forced herself upright, tearful red eyes traveling away from the mortal's chest to her peaceful face. She looked as lovely as ever, even with a newly made scar forming across the lid of her right eye and a split in her lip.

She almost appeared to be sleeping, with such an expression of tranquility. It was a small comfort, compared to her double-stabbed and still bleeding torso. The growing pool of red around her was sickening, even to a vampire.

_Ba..._

Serana's inhale caught in her throat as she trailed her tainted fingers lovingly down the Dragonborn's blood-covered cheek. It wasn't right, what she had done, it was selfish..

_..dump.._

The Dragonborn's final breath left her in a silence, leaving her body to settle as still as stone.

* * *

Serana stood hunched over a wooden table covered with various alchemic ingredients ranging from the fragile wing of a butterfly to a five-foot-long mammoth tusk, eyes combing intently through the small leather-bound journal laid open before her. It was her mother's journal, and the very room the Volkihar vampire had found herself in was her mother's study.

Locating it had been easy, getting to it had been the difficult part.

She had simply weaved through the halls of the keep unnoticed, restored a Moon Dial missing a few vital pieces, and waded through the skeleton, draugr, and feral-infested bowels of Volkihar Castle all while carrying the most precious cargo of the Era in her arms.

The journal had her rapt attention, the last few words she had looked over being _"I've done it!"_ though Serana tore her eyes away from her mother's writing for a short moment to cast a glance to her right.

Her mother's dust-caked bookshelves, filled to the ends of each shelf with tomes of all genres, covered the walls of the alcove in that familiar, lone corner.

The armchair Serana had once enjoyed sinking into with a good story in hand was now pushed to the center of the study, to make space for the tattered rug she had pulled to the corner from the middle the room. Upon that rug, laid what appeared to be a corpse, and essentially, it was.

The Dragonborn, two red puncture marks marring the once untouched skin of her neck.

Serana didn't fight the sorrow that dropped into her stomach like a stone at the sight of it. _What have I done..?_

 _Focus! You can worry about that later.. at least.. she's still here._ With an angry shake of her head, the Volkihar vampire screwed her eyes shut as she returned her gaze to the journal. The words were a welcome distraction from her past actions, they gave her a purpose, something to drive toward until the inevitable was upon her.

"Finely ground bone meal.." Her index finger trailed along the time-worn pages over the dried ink of her mother's words as she murmured under her breath. "Purified void salts, and..."

Serana's head shot up, glancing worriedly about the room for the items the list presented her. _Soul gem shards._ They landed on a shelf to her left, its top surface covered in crystal-like pieces of soul gems.

All ingredients needed to open a portal to the Soul Cairn, at least according to Valerica. The cherry on top would be Serana's own blood to sustain it long enough for the vampire to successfully enter, and leave, _hopefully_.

Serana abandoned the table to stride toward the soul-gem covered shelf at the foot of the stairs to the second level of the laboratory. She gathered a handful of shards in her palm, and crouching, took a look at the lower shelf of the wardrobe.

Bowls lined it, the misty fog of ectoplasm, crackling fire salts, frost salts, and disturbingly enough, vampire dust. The Volkihar heiress sifted past the bowls with her free hand, shoving them aside to reach what she was after.

Finely ground bone meal, and soul gem shards. Serana returned to the journal's table, letting the shards fall from her hand to form a pile on its surface. She placed the bowl on the opposite side of the open journal.

"Purified void salts.." The vampire spoke quietly to herself, turning away from the book once more to look around the cluttered room.

There was no telling where they might be, the study was filled to the brim with components of all kinds. Valerica had spent many years collecting it all, and while Serana had been interested in the work her mother did, she knew little of alchemy. Her mother had taught her the ways necromancy, so the young Serana's concern had only been for her mother's miniature library. It didn't help that she hadn't set foot inside this study for over a millennia.

Serana ventured to the small staircase leading up the second floor, fingers gliding along the stone railing as she climbed. She would find those salts, and she would open that portal, all to see Valerica again..

She began with the closest wardrobe, though all she discovered on and within it were bear claws, bird feathers, and an assorted bunch of small animals' bones.

Moving past the balcony, which fell off from the ledge to the strange stone-rings below, Serana approached the lone bookcase on the far wall. It had more bowls and ingredients on it than books; Serana delicately held a Deathbell flower in her hand when she felt an urge to check up on the comatose woman she had left on the lower floor.

The vampire set the deadly violet flower back to its place on the shelf as she peered down the ledge to the bookcases.

Unmoving, still she lay in the very same place and position Serana had left her in. Dead, she looked dead, pale as the full moon, shadowed eye sockets, and the growing gauntness of her cheeks. It had been a day at least, a full day since Serana had brought her here, and a full day Serana had waited for a corpse to come back to life.

With a soft exhale, the vampire went back to her search.

 _What if.. what if it didn't work?_ She shifted to the shorter wardrobe adjacent to the shelves. _What if I was too late?_ Serana lifted a stray book laying on its top, leaving a spotless imprint on its dust-covered surface. _No._ She slammed it back down, producing a puff of the stuff back into her face. With a grimace, the vampire back-stepped, waving the musty air off with her hand.

"It'll be fine. _She'll_ be fine." She couldn't help but speak aloud, throwing another glance across the study at her unconscious friend. Her words were heavy with uncertainty.

She was sure she did all she could to keep the Dragonborn 'alive', so to speak, she just needed more time.

Serana's eye was caught by an impressive, glittering silver stand.

The woman had suffered a great deal of physical trauma, her body was just repairing itself, that must have been it, right?

The vampire approached the stand, where a wide bowl perched on top of it. It seemed to be made entirely of pure silver, and inside was a pile of purplish crystalline bits.

 _Void salts._ Serana's index finger skimmed the substance's surface, the tiny salts gathering beneath her fingernail.

The two fatal stab wounds that had been the end of the woman had already disappeared; Serana had discovered this several hours ago, it left a gash in the leather of her armor that exposed the Dragonborn's skin. A faint discolored mark had been there, a scar. The cut across her right eye had closed up as well, but like her other wounds, a scar remained.

They were good signs, really. She was healing, and soon enough she would awaken.

Serana swiped an empty bowl from the bottom of the upper level bookcase, and back at the silver bowl, she scooped up some of the salts before descending back down the stairs.

She wished with all her might for the woman to return to her, and yet, the Volkihar heiress also dreaded the moment. She was not prepared to face her friend, and what she had done.

The Dragonborn was just so.. so.. important to her. She couldn't stand to be without her, but her decision.. would the woman think the same? Was Serana as dear to her heart as she was to the vampire's? This wasn't like deciding which bread to buy from the markets, this was taboo to most mortals. She was going to be a _vampire_ , a "nocturnal monster that preyed on the innocent". 

Unaware of the frown she wore, Serana stopped, back at the table where Valerica's journal and the other two components were. She rid herself of the bowl of void salts, nearly dumping all its contents to the wooden surface in her frustrated stupor. It met the tabletop with a thud, some of the salts spilling free.

How was she going to react? She had died, Serana was certain that it would the first thing on her mind the second the woman regained consciousness. She had died, but hadn't? There was going to be hell to pay, that Serana knew for a fact. She had done something unforgivable, something selfish, thinking only for herself..

And.. what if..

What if the Dragonborn had still been conscious enough to feel Serana's lips on her own?

Instantly, Serana's entire body was burning, and she was thankful that her undead status didn't allow her skin to flush.

 _That's! That's not the important thing here!_ With a muffled crack, Serana slapped both palms over her cheeks, hunching at the edge of the table. Her lips thinned, pressing together tightly.

Gods.. She really was in love with this woman, wasn't she?

The Dragonborn was someone she could very easily have fallen for, Serana realized, and she had. She had fallen so hard, and it was all that woman's fault. She had not done it consciously of course, and Serana couldn't really blame her, but...

She was one of kind, a ray of brooding sunshine in this terrible world, with her sheer selflessness and will to assist anyone that she possibly could. Behind that blank expression Serana knew that the Dragonborn was someone who cared, someone who cared very deeply about everyone. 

 Not for one second did Serana ever regret having met the Dragonborn.

The vampire splayed her palms to the uncovered spaces of the table in front of her with a heavy exhale, leaning forward and casting a shadow over the journal. She skimmed over the paragraph she had read before bringing together all of the ingredients, though her mind was elsewhere.

Also.. Serana had never created a fledgling. Between her father's oppressive stance on who she should and shouldn't associate herself with based of their "royal blood", Serana had decided it to be too much of a hassle to even attempt. To have another being reborn through her blood.. through her mother it had been explained as an incredibly intimate bond.

The Dragonborn would be her first fledgling, that is if she even woke. Her first fledgling, her first mortal friend, her first true love..

 _Damn this woman._ The vampire closed her eyes, fingers curled over the edge of the table as she stood straight.

_But that's not fair, she's done nothing wrong. Nothing wrong at all._

Serana kept like that, forcing the steady rise and fall of her chest, breathing through her nose as she tried reigning in the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots and prickling goosebumps down her skin.

She was unsure how low she stayed like this, soothing herself with empty, reassuring thoughts until a sense of clarity washed over her. However, all the vampire's work was unraveled the moment _it_ pulsed in her ears. A heartbeat, a rapid one, a familiar one.

The vampire practically leapt from her post at the front of the small table, the entire thing shuddering on its thin legs as Serana launched herself backward.

 _She's back!_ Her boots scuffed on the ancient stone floor as she scrambled rather ungracefully for the shelf-covered corner where the Dragonborn was stirring at last.

Serana skidded to a stop, collapsing to her knees by the woman's side. The Dragonborn was breathing erratically, eyes screwed shut, pale hands clawing at her abdomen where the stab wounds in her abdomen had once been.

Fueled by her own excitement, Serana trapped the weaker pair of hands underneath her own, the other reaching up to grasp onto the woman's shoulder.

The touch was met with a flinch from the Dragonborn, whose terrified red eyes snapped open with a sharp gasp. The woman tried lurching forward, though Serana forced her flat on her back by the hand on her shoulder.

The Dragonborn's breath cut short very suddenly. Serana tried holding in her gasp, but failed.

She peered down in the eyes of a monster. Unnatural, dangerous red eyes that had no place where they were, a slitted pupil staring right back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue whether or not Serana has turned anybody before, so whatever I guess?


	16. Beyond Death Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serana and I have entered the Soul Cairn in pursuit of her estranged mother, Valerica, and the Elder Scroll she took when she fled Castle Volkihar._

The blade of an Elven dagger rested in the crook of Serana's hand, hovering over the chalice on the second floor's ledge. Down below, the stone rings in the center of the room awaited her blood to activate them.

The vampire hesitated, feeling the pinch of the metal on her skin, and glanced over her shoulder.

The Dragonborn stood there, arms crossed, though instead of the usual aloofness the position would have given off, she looked small. Well, smaller than usual. She looked as if she were trying her damnedest to simply shrink into herself until nothing was left. Red eyes downcast, the right marred by a fresh scar, she refused to lift them from the floor. Serana frowned.

She quickly let it fall as she spoke in a gentle voice.

"Are you ready? I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen once I add my blood."

Her mort... her friend's head rose in response, and it seemed she clutched herself even tighter. Serana felt a shiver run through her bones, under those haunted red eyes, eyes of a predator that did not belong there. The woman nodded once, her earrings jingling.

Serana turned back around to face the vessel with a sad grimace of her own, raising the blade back in place.

Then that was it. She was going to open a rift to a plane of Oblivion, the Soul Cairn.

The vampire dug the edge of the dagger into her skin, and with a sharp downward jerk, it created a long gash across her palm that was instantly welling with red. Hardly affected by the short stab of pain it caused, Serana held her injured hand over the bowl of the chalice, and squeezed.

Her blood slipped between her fingers in streams, and once the single, first drop met with the top of the dusty pile, the entire chamber began to shake.

Serana held her ground, uncertain to how the Dragonborn was handling herself, looking down from the balcony. The stone rings swirled about each other bathed in an eerie purple hue, the faster they spun, the deeper the center sunk into growing gap forming in the stone floor.

 _By the blood of my ancestors.. she actually did it..._ The circle of candles lining the rings flickered dangerously before snuffing out completely, leaving the study to be completely washed by a bright violet glow. The rings were then separating from themselves, the middle falling deeper into a pit of churning purple flames, and the rest swirling to rest at the edge of the balcony. They broke off from their circular shapes, and formed a walkway downward into the center.

The Soul Cairn was open.

Serana sheathed her weapon on her hip, cradling her still-bleeding hand to her chest.

Truthfully, she was blown away. Valerica had really managed to create a portal to Oblivion.. whatever bitter feelings she did harbor for her mother, Serana could not deny that she was an intelligent and odds-defying woman.

Lost in thought, the vampire didn't notice the cold hand that had wrapped itself around the wrist of her cut hand until a sharp twinge ran down her arm. What she found was the Dragonborn, weaving a strip of her own cape securely around the palm of the vampire's hand. The fresh wound was chafed by the fabric as it was tightened by a knot, pressuring it.

Serana could feel her blood already soaking through, but the kind gesture brought a soft smile to her face regardless.

She trapped the woman's retreating fingers with own.

"Thank you." She spoke, pleased that she made no move to jerk herself free. She was not so generally accepting of physical contact. Instead, the Dragonborn slipped her entire hand into the palm of Serana's, hooking around it in a firm hold.

Her friend did not speak. She simply looked, the unbridled emotions swimming in her corrupted eyes doing all the communicating needed. Serana could not even begin to explain the rush of relief the sight filled her with. She could see some semblance of the mortal she had known; she was not gone completely. The Dragonborn was too strong for that, she knew all along.

Serana gave one last reassuring squeeze, before breaking their gaze and taking the first step forward. She tugged the woman along with her, down into the purple pits of Oblivion.

* * *

The Soul Cairn was a barren and dry landscape, dead trees and naked, twisted branches of shrubs littering its bleak surface. The sky was perpetually cloudy and dark, jagged shreds of lightning shooting down to strike the land without warning every now and then. There was no sun, no soothing light, only a single bluish moon and a shadowy void swallowing a part of the midnight sky.

There were numerous structures, from fully formed fortresses seen as silhouettes in the distance, to the lone blackened pillars lining the path they walked. To the right, a purple pit erupted a flame-like glow from the black earth, and to the left, a fissure cut through the ground. Rib cages and various bones were visible, most half-buried in the shadowed dirt.

Serana observed her surroundings warily, the very air she breathed causing her skin to crawl. This place felt so incredibly.. wrong.

An onyx-colored structure was approaching, as they left the singular pillars behind, a small cathedral. Twin orbs of pale blue light shone on either side of its less-than-inviting pitch black opening blocked off by thick metal bars.

The vampire pressed onward, even despite the ethereal form plainly seen resting in a sitting position at its steps. She sensed the Dragonborn linger, only for a short moment, and slowed her pace.

It was a soul, some poor fool more than likely tricked into surrendering himself to the Ideal Masters for all eternity. He was not worth their time.

The two women walked, past the cathedral, following the sandy trail twisting through the landscape. Ruins stuck up from the ground left and right, shards of black stone all around. Another soul rested on top of a wall, head bowed. Serana ignored him too, her attention captured by something else.

A wisp, she presumed, gliding straight toward them. She stopped, sensing the Dragonborn do the same close behind. The wisp floated by harmlessly over Serana's shoulder, a thin trail of light following it like the tail of a comet. Its proximity left a peculiar tingling sensation across her cheek. The vampire's nose wrinkled in distaste.

This felt like a fairy tale, or more precisely a fairy nightmare. It was.. something.. a new experience, but Serana could not swallow her unease. They were not meant to be here.

"The air.. the ground.. the sky.. it all feels wrong." She voiced her thoughts long after the wisp had departed, now coming up on another building. A circular brazier was built into the earth, the embers inside pulsing that odd purple hue.

The Dragonborn offered only an uninterested of sound of agreement by her side, bone shards creaking beneath both their feet. A pile of skulls, femurs, arm and hand bones were across the pathway from the brazier.

They continued without words, guided by the trail, where ahead a massive castle-like structure loomed high in the dark sky.

Serana gazed up at the tower, its sharp arches and decorative spikes stirring a feeling of recognition within her. She was not idiotic enough to plunge head-first into a strange world completely blind; Serana had been told tales of the Soul Cairn and its geology, so she was vaguely familiar with its landmarks and regions.

She had a name for the area they had crossed into. The Boneyard. It was very fitting, the stretch of land was certainly as desolate as a graveyard.

A barrier shimmered at the foot of the colossal castle in the distance.

Her intrigue was replaced by alarm, when a hollow voice echoed across the empty landscape. "Arvak!" The vampire instantly stopped, her companion a couple steps ahead. "Arvak!" The strange voice called again, and the her head swept around the area.

They were at a crossroads, the path splitting in thirds, forward, left, and right. Crumbled, partially disintegrated brick railings lined the edges of the trails, where once again, souls could be found lounging against and on them.

The soul that had yelled was sprinting, down the path that led ahead from the two women. The features of his fuzzy ethereal form were difficult to distinguish, even as he came closer, though his head was shaped as if he wore a helmet.

Serana stiffened as the soul gave one last cry for Arvak, before apparently sensing the two strangers to his realm past the gathering of apathetic souls. He looked directly at them, his running slowed to a jog, before stopping completely in front of the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn did not so much as flinch as the flashing being began speaking to her in his echoing voice. "Please! He needs your help!"

Serana stepped up behind the Dragonborn, already prepared to brush off him off like the nuisance he was, but was interrupted by the very woman who had not spoken a single word since awakening back in the mortal world.

"Who?" A clipped, kinda frigid tone, but she had actually  _said_  something.

The soul, the clearness of his expression shimmering too often for Serana to discern, sounded frantic. "My steed, Arvak! We came to this terrible place together.. but we were attacked. I told him to run.." The glowing blue figure seemed to slump, crestfallen. "He's still running.. he's been running for a very long time," The soul's head shot up, peering into the Dragonborn's face pleadingly. "Please," He cried, the mist swirling around his intangible being clouding him almost entirely. "Find Arvak!"

With one final flicker, the distraught soul vanished.

The woman looked over her shoulder at the vampire, expression blank. Serana had an idea of what she was thinking anyway.

"You're going to find Arvak for him?" She spoke, annoyed, though keeping it to herself. They did not have the time to scour the entire Cairn for a ghost horse, Valerica and the Elder Scroll had remain their top priority, but.. if that was what the Dragonborn wanted there was no way in Oblivion Serana could refuse her.

She bit back a sigh when the woman answered her with a nod. She always had to be the hero, didn't she?

They continued, through a massive arch in a gigantic wall that stretched all the way to the purple horizon, and down the staircase to step onto an even barer wasteland.

There were hardly any buildings or crooked plant life at this point, only the grayish dust beneath their feet and the twin beams of soft blue light shooting up into the sky from the Boneyard castle. It was as good as a place as any to start searching, so that's where they went.

The nearer they came, the more sinister the castle appeared. The light erupted from two towers on either side of the keep's entrance, crumbling to individual bits at their tops and suspending in the columns of light. The almost transparent, shimmering blue barrier surely barred their way inside. They stopped, just before the stairs.

As Serana stood at the foot of the staircase basked in the Cairn's characteristic purple glow, her stomach fluttered with dread. Or maybe it was anger.. or sadness?

Either way, this was a problem. She had no idea whether Valerica was here or not.. and it wasn't as if she could search for her mother inside with the magical barrier blocking her off. The idea of traversing the entire Soul Cairn for one single vampire was a less than appealing option, but..

"Serana," Her head shot up so quickly she was a little afraid she had given herself whiplash. The Dragonborn stood at the top step, looking down at her. "Is that her?" Serana felt a stab of anxiety, watching her arm raise, an index finger pointing off in a direction that she could not see toward the keep's threshold.

Her stomach churning with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, Serana hurried up the blackened stone steps, revealing the rest of the intricately carved double doors of the castle that stood far above them. Past the piles of bones littering the walkway and the shimmering wall of light, stood a figure. The figure of a woman. A woman Serana both loved dearly, and despised deeply.

At the moment, she was experiencing the former.

"Mother?" Serana gasped, and she felt her body automatically moving her forward. "Mother!" She called breathlessly a second time, unaware of the desperation choking the one word.

She couldn't believe it. She was  _here_. Her mother was  _here_. Had she been waiting in this very spot all these years for her?

Serana stood directly in front of the wall now, the barrier separating the two of them. She almost reached out for her mother, but jerked to a stop at the last moment.

Valerica was the one whose hand was outstretched, only to be blocked by the incorporeal-looking, but solid wall of light. "It can't be.. Serana..?" Valerica spoke, her voice soft with disbelief.

 _Is it really you? I can't believe it.._  By now, the excitment of the situation was wearing thin, thin enough for Serana to wipe the smile from her face.  _So I've finally found you.._  The mother who betrayed her. The mother who abandoned her. Her mouth tasted bitter.

"How do we get inside? We need to talk." Valerica noticed, she noticed that the words leaving Serana's mouth had dropped enough degrees to scorch her with a frostbitten burn. Her mother's hand fell away, having the nerve to appear slightly wounded by her brusque behavior.

 _When did you stop loving me, Mother?_  Valerica's own gentle upturn of her lips smoothed away, now curling in the opposite direction.  _When did I stop being your daughter, and start being a pawn?_  Her mother's eyes hardened; Serana could not understand why she felt only a brutal stab of disgust, seeing the wetness gathered at their edges.  _Why did you leave me?_

"Serana.. what are you doing here?" As more of a defense mechanism than an act of disrespect, Serana crossed her arms, hugging her middle tightly.

A nice to see you would have been appreciated. Or perhaps a "Sorry For Locking You In a Crypt For Centuries Without Your Consent".

"Where is your father?" Valerica asked, tone as cold ice, peering past her daughter's shoulder as if she expected the very man to come strutting up the staircase after her.

"He's not here. He doesn't know we're here." Serana glanced back as well, where the Dragonborn remained where she had left her. The woman shuffled awkwardly in her place, hands clasped together at her stomach. Valerica paid her no heed, more concerned with the chance-presence of Harkon.

Her mother's frowned felt as if it grew frostier. "I must have failed.. He's found a way to decipher it, hasn't he? Are you here to warn me?"

"No, you've got it all wrong," Serana insisted with a shake of her head. She gestured to the Dragonborn. "We're trying to stop him from doing just that."

For the first time since their arrival, Valerica seemed to fully acknowledge the other woman with Serana's help. Red eyes narrowed, piercing the Dragonborn with a look of suspicion. The Dragonborn withered beneath the glare, and Serana bristled.

"You have brought a stranger here," She spoke with obvious disapproval, facing her daughter fully. "Have you lost your mind?"

Her eyes no doubt burning with a fire of indignation, Serana settled for a hand cocked on her hip haughtily. "No, no, you don't-"

"You," Valerica uttered frigidly in an authoritative tone, a tone that had the Dragonborn instantly jerking to attention. "Come forward. I would like to speak to you."

 _You have no right to talk to her that way!_  Though Serana was less irritated with her mother's demand, and more appalled at the Dragonborn's following reaction to it.

No sarcastic quip, no indifferent come back. Just silence, silence and tiny, annoyed breath between her teeth. Obediently the woman padded closer, stopping just at Serana's shoulder.

"So," Her mother began, and Serana was biting her tongue to stop herself from hissing. "How has it come to pass that..  _you_  are in the company of my daughter?"

 _You.._  The string of appropriate insults were already on Serana's lips when the Dragonborn discovered her voice after several uncomfortable moments of hesitation, however subdued it was.

"Serana is my friend." There was a.. dead look in her eyes, even when she was speaking such sentimental words. She was acting like the corpse she was, and Serana shuddered at the realization. "I've been trying to protect her."

"You've been  _trying_  to protect her?" Valerica hissed, and Serana could taste the hypocrisy of her words. "You call this," Her mother swept her hands outward, motioning to their current surroundings. "Keeping her safe, bringing her to a place like this? She has sacrificed everything to stop Harkon from completing this prophecy."

 _What the hell would you know about I've sacrificed?_ Serana wanted to explode right there, burst into flames and finally just lay into Valerica what she had been holding in all these centuries. But.. but.. she couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to scream, cry, or curse, she kept herself composed. She would not let her emotions get the better of her, not here, not in front of the Dragonborn. She couldn't let her mother have the satisfaction of knowing just how badly she had hurt Serana.

Gritting her teeth, Serana spoke up before her companion had the chance to reply. It required a great amount of effort to keep her voice from trembling. "We're here for your Elder Scroll. We're going to decipher the prophecy before Father does.

Her outburst having successfully deflected Valerica's aggression off the Dragonborn, Serana stood strong beneath her mother's glacial look. "Serana.." She breathed in that patronizing manner that secretly had the Volkihar heiress's blood boiling, the sharpness of her expression smoothing out a bit. "The Scrolls are merely a means to an end. The key to prophecy is  _you_."

Instantly, Serana felt her fury drain from her. That was new..

The Dragonborn strangely quiet at her side, Serana felt the fire in her heart quickly dimming, doused by the alarming news. "What.. what?"  _I'm the key to the prophecy? What exactly.. does that mean..?_

Valerica sighed, the tired action making her appear far beyond her years.. centuries..

"Serana, when I fled Castle Volkihar I took two Elder Scrolls. I assume you know by now that your Scroll speaks of Auriel and his arcane weapon, and the second declares..." Her mother drew in yet another, slow, careful inhale. Serana had a feeling she would not like what was about to be recited. "The Blood of Coldharbour's Daughter will blind the eye of the Dragon."

 _The blood.. m-my blood.._  Serana wanted to speak, but her mother continued on, an almost sad look shining behind her red eyes.

"This is why I've kept the other Elder Scroll as far from you as possible, to  _protect_  you, Serana." It hardly made up for the trouble her mother had put her through.. but.. maybe, just maybe..

"So you're saying Harkon intends to kill her?" To the surprise of both mother and daughter, a quiet voice spoke up at Serana's side.

Valerica faced the Dragonborn along with a startled Serana, simply looking at the woman for a long moment before answering. "If Harkon got his hands on Auriel's Bow, and then used Serana's blood to taint it, the prophecy would be complete, so essentially, yes."

A bone-chilling shudder traveled down the vampire in question's back at that. The most terrible thing, however, was that she knew; Serana knew without a doubt that Harkon would kill her for such a cause. In his eyes she would be dying for the sake of all Skyrim's vampires.

As Serana clutched herself tight, an inner whirlwind raging within her head, the Dragonborn stepped closer to the barrier. "I would never allow that to happen. Harkon won't be laying a finger on her."

"And how exactly to plan on completing the prophecy, as you said, without the death of my daughter?" Her mother spoke, recovering her previous knife-edged, accusatory tone, a hand clutching her hip.

"I'll kill him." The Dragonborn replied simply, as if it were the most obvious solution there was.

Valerica disagreed with a condemning scoff. "If you believe that, you are an even bigger fool than I originally thought. Do not you not think I weighed that option before I enacted all of my plans?"

The Dragonborn's voice was as stinging as acid when she replied: "Have you even once, thought to ask Serana's opinions on these plans of yours?"

"You care for nothing of Serana or our plight, you see the Tyranny of the Sun as a threat, and just like Harkon you will stop at nothing and destroy anything in your path to put an end to it." Valerica shot back in retaliation, her tone just as wounding.

The sudden lunge the Dragonborn took for the barrier shocked Serana into going backward out of sheer instinct.

The woman smacked both of her palms into the light wall with the harsh crack of her skin. "I am nothing like Harkon!" She hissed vehemently, the outburst just a level below shouting.

"Serana believes in me; maybe you should actually take into consideration her feelings for once and learn to think the same!" She finished with a spat, the barrier sparking and rippling beneath her fingers.

Serana's hand reached out, grasping her shoulder to pull the woman backward before the barrier could react in a likely more painful way. Valerica regarded the Dragonborn with cold indifference from the other side of the wall of light.

The Dragonborn herself to be moved without resistance. When Serana released her, she instantly swiveled herself around so that Valerica could not see her face. Serana could practically feel the distress and anger washing off of her.

Valerica looked to her daughter in favor to piercing the Dragonborn's back with a glare of daggers.

"Serana. This stranger may be a vampire, but she knows nothing of our struggle. Why should I entrust your safety to her?"

Serana blistered underneath her calm facade. Her true emotions were only revealed in the slightly bitter edge to her response. The Dragonborn was not just 'some vampire', and if anything, she deserved every single bit of trust Serana had to give away. "This 'stranger' has done more for me than you have in centuries."

Valerica's irritation flared with the twitch of her left eye brow. Her mother's eyes were two smoldering suns boring into her own. "I gave up everything I held dear to protect you from that fanatic you call a father. What more could be done for you? The moment Harkon discovers your role in all of this, you will be in terrible danger. I did this all for  _you_."

 _You may have thought what you were doing was right, but you never asked me if it was what I wanted!_  Serana did not share her thoughts right away, instead, she gathered herself before speaking again. The tension in the air could be sliced up with a butter knife. "So  _for me_ , you shut me away in a stone prison and left me there for over a thousand years? You never asked me if hiding me was the best course of action, you just did it and expected me to follow blindly!"

Now, Valerica had to nerve to break out that look, an expression of genuine hurt and regret. "Serana.."

"Both of you were fanatics, obsessed with your own paths. Your motivations may have been different," Serana's fists closed, the tips of her fingernails biting painfully into her palms as she raised her voice to overpower her mother's. The action aggravated the cut she had given herself earlier. "But in the end, I'm still just a pawn to both of you."

Valerica's hand was outstretched toward the barrier. Serana wanted to move even further backward. "Serana.. I-"

Serana spoke over her again. "We have to stop him, though. Before he goes too far. We need the third Elder Scroll."

Her mother's fingers moved into empty space, before closing into a fist and returning back to her side. "I'm sorry Serana. I didn't.." Valerica's eyes closed, a drained sigh leaving her. "I let my hatred of Harkon estrange us for too long. Forgive me." Her mother stood sideways now, left hand gesturing to the massive door before them. "If you want the Elder Scroll it's yours."

Forgiveness so early was a far cry at this point, but Serana was willing to give her mother a chance. Valerica did not need to know this, of course. "Do you have it with you?"

"Yes." Her mother responded with a curt nod. "I've kept it here with me since I was imprisoned." Imprisoned by who, is what Serana wished to know, but Valerica went on before she could ask. "Fortunately, you are in a position to dispell the barrier from out there."

Movement at her back made Serana glance over her shoulder, to see the Dragonborn gradually stalking further and further away toward the stairs. Valerica kept talking despite her averted attention.

"You need to locate the tallest rocky spires that you see; there are three, and at their bases the barrier's energy is being fueled by the souls trapped in this realm."

Serana kept her eyes on the woman, watching as the Dragonborn stopped at the top step, standing in place rather sullenly.

"Destroy the Keepers tending to the spires, and the barrier should disappear." Valerica said with a sense of finality, and went silent.

"We'll return soon." Were the stony words Serana left her estranged mother with, turning away without a second thought to descend down the stairs, the Dragonborn soon to fall in step.

They had walked in silence for a while, and when Valerica and the castle were nearly completely out of sight, the Dragonborn piped up somewhere behind her. "Serana. I don't like your mother very much."

"You and me both." Serana sighed in reply.


	17. Arvak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serana and I must defeat the three Boneyard Keepers to free Valerica and get the Elder Scroll, yet a wandering spirit approached me in the Soul Cairn and asked me to find his missing steed, Arvak. I intend to help him before this is through._

They traveled directly east, leaving Valerica and the Boneyard behind, guided by her mother's directions and the massive onyx spire towering far into the permanently gloomy sky. Heavy gray clouds and mist swirled at its top, shrouding the already menacing structure in a dark smog.

The trip was about as peaceful as it could get, with lightning continuing to crackle downward without warning, constantly passing stray souls, floating wisps, and scattered piles of human remains. Not to mention the Bonemen that clawed their ways free from the dry ground with the intent to kill burning in their luminous blue eyes.

The silence was unbearable, for Serana at least, she was uncertain whether she could say the same for the Dragonborn. There was just too much she wanted to say or ask, but the words were stuck, glued to her tongue.

_What had Harkon done to her? Had he tortured her either verbally, physically, or mentally? Had he... assaulted her? Where had that cut on her lip from from? Was she holding herself together, with the weight of all this stress boring down on her?_

She couldn't let it sit, unspoken forever, but how could she approach these topics? Would the Dragonborn even bother with an answer? Or would she do what she did best and just simply pull up her mental walls and shut it down before it even had the chance to start?

Her face was not covered, that was a start. Now Serana just had to corner her somehow.. There was no doubt the woman would try to wiggle her way out of the confrontation the moment she realized what was happening.

Serana's eyes swiveled across the barren, dead landscape, searching for a suitable place to stop. Preferably somewhere without spirits. They never showed a reaction, besides that one asking for help finding his horse, but Serana would rather this conversation stay private from even their ears.

A spindly, gnarled plant of some sorts crunched beneath her boot when she turned back to her target. Not for the first time, the Dragonborn did not appear aware of the eyes upon her, but probably knew that they were. She was oddly intuitive like that.

Her stomach churning, Serana took one final step, before standing in place with the shift of the Soul Cairn's grayish dirt underfoot. The jagged slab of black brick behind her would have to do. She called out to the Dragonborn.

Serana rarely spoke her name, she realized, as the woman instantly turned to her at the sound of it.

"Let's stop for a minute, why don't we?" The vampire suggested, gesturing backward at the chunk of stone sunken into the dusty ground. She was already back stepping, never taking her eyes from the woman as she awaited a reply.

The Dragonborn went a little rigid, lips parted as if she were about to argue, though in the next moment she was advancing toward the slab alongside Serana, the metal jingling of her earrings following her.

Serana eased herself onto the large shadowed stone, the toes of her boots dangling barely an inch from the earth. The Dragonborn vaulted her way up as well with a tiny grunt beside the Volkihar vampire. She pulled her shorter legs up, sitting cross-legged, though visibly tense. She looked about ready to leap right away like a frightened hare.

Her palms curled over the edge of the brick, Serana began tapping her right hand's fingers against it absentmindedly. She could have sworn she saw her companion inching closer and closer to her in the corner of her eye.

"So.." She felt the Dragonborn's gaze on her, and suddenly the entire conversation Serana had planned out in her head fizzled out of existence. _Dammit, dammit._ "What do you think of the Soul Cairn?" She hoped the woman did not notice the slight cringe the words were delivered with. _Smooth work there, Serana. Gods..._

The Dragonborn did not speak for an anxiety-riddled amount of time, head turning slowly as she took in their surroundings. She seemed particularly interested by the open-roofed cathedral perched on a nearby hill. A purple brazier burned at each of its corners and weystone pillars were scattered randomly around it, though Serana did not take the time to inspect it any further as the woman finished her observations.

She looked straight ahead when she finally replied. "It is nice."

A shard of white-hot lightning suddenly streaked from the midnight sky to scorch the hill ahead of them with a roar. The Dragonborn did not look all that affected by the explosion of noise and light or the newly formed blackish crater in the dirt.

Serana raised a brow, red eyes sweeping around again. Scattered twisted trees, eerie purple flames bursting from the cracked ground, skeletons left and right, and she thought the Soul Cairn was _nice_?

The next second the vampire was shaking her head briefly. No matter, now that the ice had been broken, perhaps she could get the withdrawn woman to open up without scaring her off.

"Hey.." Serana uttered in the gentlest voice possible, having built up the resolve to look the her in the face if she ever found the courage to do the same. Stiffly, the woman did meet her eyes, wearing that infuriatingly deadpan expression. "Are you okay?" The left corner of the Dragonborn's lip twitched, characteristic stoic look of hers threatening to slip away.

"Yes.." She replied simply, and suddenly her palm was cupping her cheek, fingers brushing lightly across her face. A blatant lie, Serana knew. The Dragonborn always performed that nervous tick, or fiddled with one of her earrings whenever she tried to hide something.

While Serana contemplated whether or not to call it out, her eyes darted downward, to the hand the Dragonborn had so discreetly crept nearer to her own splayed against the stone. Impulsively, she reached forward, grasping the equally cold hand with her own. The Dragonborn did not pull back. "What happened, back there in Volkihar Castle?"

Serana was willing to give the woman all the time in the world if it meant she would be getting an answer, but she did not expect it so soon.

"I died." The Dragonborn spoke without a moment's hesitation, other hand lifting to brush lightly against her middle. Serana's eyes darted to the places those fingers touched, the two jagged tears in the middle of her.. what was it.. Nightingale armor? The gashes revealed tantalizing flashes of skin that would have otherwise been incredibly distracting if not for the pale, reddish reminders of her old wounds that struck Serana with a pang of sorrow every time she laid eyes on them.

With her enchanted bag and belongings confiscated by Harkon during their capture, she had nothing else to wear, and Serana certainly had no clue how to repair the damage.. to the armor or the woman.

The vampire quickly darted her eyes back up, to the Dragonborn's empty expression besides the very subtle crease between her brows. Serana had gotten her answer, yes, yet there was still more she did not know, more she was more than a little _afraid_ to know.

Serana's chest heaved with a sigh. "I know that," Again, without her conscious knowledge, Serana's hand shifted so that her fingers intertwined themselves with the woman's, her thumb stroking across her knuckles. "Did Harkon.. _do_ anything to you?"

The reaction was almost instantaneous, though the Dragonborn hid it well, as she always did.

Her body coiled like a trap, every bone and muscle going rigid the moment the words left Serana's mouth. The vampire could feel her hand curl into a fist trapped beneath her own, and the lean of her body in the opposite direction.

A strange, inconvenienced noise left her as the Dragonborn tugged her hand free, successfully freeing herself from Serana. One hand almost lifted to touch her face, though at the last moment she clasped both palms together to stop herself. Her entire body screamed out the message: _Don't touch me._

"No." If only that were true. The Dragonborn was a horrendous liar with no helmet to hide behind.

Serana did not speak again for a moment, simply waiting, staring firmly at the side of the woman's face. She felt a familiar prick of irritation for the Dragonborn's stubbornness, though it was not without a little bit of fondness either.

Nothing good would come of getting angry with her, it never had in the past, so with a calming breath Serana dropped her frown and gave up on the glaring. She had to be careful, and treat the woman like a scared animal instead.

 _Harkon.._ she _was_ going to kill her father. There was no question about it now. Swallowing her anger for the time being, Serana moved on.

"Okay.." Serana kept her gaze averted, facing ahead, though she could sense the twitch of the Dragonborn's body beside her. "Are you angry with me? For what I did? Bringing you back?"

When another hand was placed on top of her own, Serana lifted her head.

"What?" The Dragonborn said in a strangely emotional manner so unlike her that Serana was inwardly reeling. Her out-of-place, red eyes were bright with genuine terror.

"W-what.. n-no! No, Serana!" The Dragonborn gasped, dropping her stoic act at last, and lifting Serana's hand upward between hers.

"You saved me, Serana! I'm sorry if I've been acting like an ass, making you think I was pissed with you," Her voice hitched, suddenly breathless. "It was just.. a lot to process, and I just... I died and that's.. that's hard to come to terms with so easily."

The woman released her increasingly-tightening grip on the other vampire's hands, wringing her own nervously. "There's just.. so many things.." Her half-lidded red eyes darted sideways, and with a slight start Serana caught each pupil shrinking into a slit. "...I couldn't see before, or smell before.."

The Volkihar heiress felt her expression soften into one of understanding, the tension tightening her chest washed away by the woman's words.

"And.." The Dragonborn didn't look directly at her, trying to keep her gaze _anywhere_ else, and Serana had a sneaking suspicion that if she were not undead, the woman would be blushing right about now. "I have a hard time.. dealing with this emotional.. stuff." One hand unlatched itself, gliding across her more prominently-defined cheek again with a sigh.

Of course. Serana felt like slapping herself for her rising temper earlier. She had known the Dragonborn long enough; she was a woman of actions, not words, and _definitely_ not emotions.

"It's okay." Serana offered a small smile, and she did something quite daring. The Dragonborn watched her with a slight hint of confusion as Serana spread her arms. "Come on," She coaxed with a wave of one. "You look like you need it."

She went through a myriad of expressions, looking as if she really wanted to accept the gesture, but hesitated. Stubborn.

Luckily for her, Serana did not give up that easily. Everyone needed a hug once in a while, no matter how much she was trying to deny it right now. "Come on, get in here." The vampire cajoled, flexing the fingers of both hands.

Serana's smile widened when the Dragonborn began drifting nearer. " _Fine._ " Was heard from her, halfway muffled by Serana's chest as she was trapped in the embrace by the other vampire's arms wrapping around her.

The Dragonborn's chin found itself resting on Serana's shoulder, her chin-length locks of black hair tickling the parts of the Volkihar heiress's skin not covered by the silver choker of her armor. Timidly, the woman's arms snaked up and around Serana as well.

Inwardly, Serana was glowing, only hidden by her bodily inability to show it. Somehow, she managed to still the jumps her dead heart wanted to take; the other woman being less accustomed to her newly resurrected body was not.

Their chests pressed together, Serana could feel every soothing thump of her heart, the feeling giving her a rush of nostalgia for the Dragonborn she had first met in that dusty old crypt. The mortal Dragonborn.

Serana could also feel the slack of the Dragonborn's usually taunt body, gradually relaxing into the hug until her lungs heaved with a deep sigh. The pure-blooded vampire felt the puff of her breath, brightening even more in response to the airy voice following it. "Thank you, Serana. For everything."

The Dragonborn would probably laugh at the grin Serana was wearing at the moment. Thankfully, she could not see it.

"Of course." Serana replied with the giddiness expressed in her words, the other woman turning her head so that her left cheek rested against the other woman's shoulder. She was in no hurry to get out of this, it looked like.

It's not like Serana minded. It was rare that she ever touched the Dragonborn, beside a brush of their hands, a fleeting reassurance, or an accidental collision during a battle. This was nice.

Serana sucked in a serene breath, closing her eyes and taking a large whiff of the Dragonborn's scent with it. Metal, smoke, blood, the generally common combination hanging off a warrior, though.. When she was a mortal the Dragonborn did not have the smell of Serana threaded in with it.

Serana's eyes snapped open at the end of her inhale.

When the Dragonborn _had_ been mortal, she always had that very faint trace of a vampire lingering around her, due to the great amount of time Serana spent with her. Back then, it had never been something to blink at, and maybe even deterred other less-friendly vampires away from the woman.

Now, it was like a brand.. a brand that Serana had seared into her very body.

The Volkihar heiress was startled from her swelling troubled thoughts by the Dragonborn's voice vibrating against her. "Found Arvak."

Following the general direction she felt the her friend's attention drawn toward, Serana's eyes landed on the cathedral. Now making an effort to actually _look_ at it, she could see a pedestal in the center of the structure. On that pedestal, sat the onyx-hued skull of a horse.

That damn spirit's horse was _right_ there. 

Serana could almost feel the smugness beginning to radiate from the woman as the Dragonborn unraveled herself from her, and started toward the cathedral.

 _Always have to be the hero, huh?_ The pure-blooded vampire repeated inwardly, sliding off of the stone slab herself in pursuit.

* * *

Arvak was a truly... unique creature. For one thing, he had no skin. Or muscles. Or anything you would remotely expect to see on a horse.

His mane was a mass of purple light, flowing like a magnificent steed's hair in the mountain wind, or in this case, the rancid gusts of the Soul Cairn. His joints rattled with each movement, and his glowing purple eyes felt as if they were peering straight into Serana's nonexistent soul.

To Serana, the undead horse was a bit unnerving, but the Dragonborn, she was completely smitten with him.

She sat perched on his back, slender fingers sifting through the churning flames that was his mane with a sort of child-like wonder, her other hand outstretched to Serana and most likely forgotten as she continued to admire the skeletal mount in all his bone-clacking glory.

After successfully swiping the disembodied horse's head from the pedestal and fending off the horde of bonemen that had followed, the same wandering spirit that had pleaded for their help appeared out of thin air before them. He had thanked the woman for her help, and showed her a summoning spell to call on Arvak.

A very uncomfortable amount of silence passed until the Dragonborn finally noticed that Serana had not taken her offered palm, and snapped out of whatever trance she had been in. She looked to the vampire, Arvak pawing at the sooty earth with a black hoof beneath her.

"Serana?" The Dragonborn questioned, her arm remaining outstretched.

The Volkihar heiress didn't hide her skeptical expression, eyes roaming over the completely see-through rib cage of the undead horse before rising to meet the woman's. "Are you sure this is safe?"

The woman's lips pursed into a sort of accusatory pout, though her eyes were shining with bemusement. "Serana, I've see you climb onto a cave bear's back and cling to it for a solid twenty seconds before stabbing it through the neck with your dagger." Her fingers flexed, flashing a little, tiny smile. "I doubt this is any more dangerous than _that_."

Serana quickly folded her arms, crossing them over her chest with a huff. "No.. but this horse sounds like he's gonna fall apart with each step." As if on cue, Arvak shifted his weight between feet in that moment, producing a very grating chorus of crackles that nearly made the vampire want to cringe.

There was no way in Oblivion that this walking pile of bones was going to be able to hold the both of them. 

The Dragonborn reeled her hand back in, using it to pat the space where Serana imagined Arvak's shoulder would be. Her palm thumped onto a rigged chunk of bone instead. "I'm sure he's tougher than he looks," She reasoned with a short, low chuckle. "Now quit being a sore loser and get up here." She splayed her hand out again, directly in front of the Volkihar vampire's face this time.

Serana eyed the hand dubiously, straightening out her arms. "What exactly have I lost?" She still took the woman's hand.

The Dragonborn squeezed Serana, giving her arm a gentle tug upward. "Dammit, just get up here."


	18. Beyond Death Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serana and I have defeated the last Keeper, so the wall of light imprisoning her mother should be gone now. Now we need to return to the Boneyard Castle and retrieve the Scroll from Valerica._

Arvak vanished with an hollow whinny, swallowed into the purple rift cloaking his skeletal body that also blinked out of existence along with him.

She and the Dragonborn watched him go, currently standing at the foot of the Boneyard castle's steps. The woman's right hand pulsed with a swirling ball of similarly violet light that extinguished when she formed a fist, dismissing the summoning spell.

Serana turned herself on her heel and tilted her head back, peering up at the massive structure. As soon as the final Keeper had fallen, the magical barrier of light that had once surrounded the castle must have vanished; they were free to enter as they pleased.

 _Now we can finally, finally get that last Elder Scroll... from Valerica._ Serana felt her lips already turning downward at the mere thought of her mother.

An unusually spirited voice at her side pulled Serana from her quickly souring thoughts. "You have to admit, he was a big help, right?"

She did not even bother to give the woman a look, only a long exhaling breath. That damn skeleton horse. What did Arvak have that Serana didn't? Exposed bones?

The resulting, soft snicker due to her silence _was_ enough to swing around and bother with a glare. The Dragonborn stood with her arms crossed, wearing as smug an expression as her usually emotionless face could be.

While Serana was delighted to see her acting so lively, the unbearable dry humor that came with it was irritating.

"I don't know what you're being so pleased about," She retorted, though with a smile, reaching out to grab one of the Dragonborn's dangling earrings.

The Dragonborn yelped when she tugged, both of her hands wrapping around Serana's wrist.

"Come on, we have something rather important to do here, in case you've forgotten." She finished with a final little jerk and flourish of a hand, taking the first step toward the short staircase.

" _Ah_ ," The Dragonborn hissed somewhere behind Serana, who was already climbing the first step. "You're just bitter because I was able to help that spirit out after all." The woman muttered under her breath, the jingling of her earrings signaling that she was close to follow.

 _I am not, you cheeky little.._ Serana's heated, completely mental response stopped in its tracks as she passed the final, top step and stepped onto the threshold of the Boneyard castle.

The magical wall of light that had once stretched all the way to the tallest, pointiest spire of the castle was indeed gone, and there at the foot of the imposing keep door stood Valerica. Her mother was already facing in their direction, and Serana was feeling strangely embarrassed about the words her mother _must_ have overheard just moments before. 

Serana felt a twinge somewhere down in her stomach as her red eyes made contact with Valerica's.

"Serana." Her mother simply called in a rather flat voice, though her eyebrows were arched a little. Serana did not speak right away, taking the time to approach Valerica first, stalking past the piles of bones that lined the walkway and crunched beneath her boots. The sound of the Dragonborn's earrings trailed her like the delicate chiming of a bell.

Valerica's lips thinned as her daughter came to a halt in front of her, face smoothing out to wipe away whatever trace of respect she had let slip into her expression. "You actually managed to defeat the Boneyard Keepers," Serana struggled with her immediate instinct to roll her eyes. It was nice to know her mother had such faith in her. "Impressive."

Her dead heart was definitely _not_ fluttering when her mother finished her thought, however vaguely insulting the compliment had been. Her expression remained neutral.

"The Scroll?" Serana asked curtly; she was not going to give Valerica the satisfaction of reacting to such a rare praise.

Her act of spite worked wonderfully, in Serana's opinion anyway, seeing the way her mother's frown deepened. 

"Yes, yes," Valerica sighed exasperatedly in reply, a hand she had hanging limply by her side lifting to gesture toward the door. "It's in the castle, however.." Serana almost missed the flash of anger in her mother's expression as she quickly turned away to grasp the brass handle of one side of the double doors. "We'll need to be wary of Durnehviir, he's surely going to investigate now that the barrier is down."

 _Durnehviir?_ Serana hesitated to move closer as her mother pulled at the handle, the gigantic door groaning on its hinges to swing outward. Valerica side-stepped around the edge of the metal door, shoving it away from herself with the flat of her palm to reveal the entrance to the castle's purple-tinted courtyard.

"Who's Durnehviir?" Serana voiced her concern only when her mother had started through the ridiculously tall doorway, sensing the subtle tap of the Dragonborn's feet not far behind her.

The entrance opened into a spacious smog-shrouded courtyard. Each separate wall could be seen all around them, purple braziers of light illuminating their corners. There were most likely rooms tucked away in whatever shadowed recesses that the keep possessed, but none that Serana could see as she trailed warily after Valerica, still awaiting her answer.

Her mother walked toward the center of the gloomy courtyard, deadpan voice carrying behind her. "The guardian dragon of this realm."

 _What!_  Serana felt her body instantly jerk to attention, suddenly hyper-aware of anything that dared to move around her. The Dragonborn sucked in a sharp inhale out her sight, though otherwise stayed quiet.

Valerica walked on to the single slab of half-buried stone that was in the center of the castle's courtyard. Serana found her previous irritation surfacing as she lengthened her stride and lunged with her hand to grab her mother's shoulder, bringing her to a halt.

Serana's chest felt a jolt at the contact, a sensation she was almost certain was mutual, as Valerica stiffened beneath her palm.

The last time she had touched her mother had been over a thousand years ago.

Serana hastily jerked her fingers free as Valerica's body tilted around halfway to look at her. "Guardian _dragon_?" She ground out, anger lighting her voice like a spark on tinder.

Valerica met the obvious aggression well, her voice as sincere and inexpressive as her face. "Yes."

"Why didn't you mention this sooner? We have to defeat a dragon now?" Serana growled faintly, red eyes wide and sweeping the heavens as if the very beast himself were about to crash down upon them.

The Dragonborn exhaled loudly behind her. Serana ignored her.

Her mother regarded her with that sort of holier-than-thou expression that was a guaranteed switch on Serana's nerves, not all concerned with her own warning of the dragon. The slight raise of her eyebrow was infuriatingly patronizing. "You've already proven your strength by destroying the three Keepers, I hardly think that Durnehviir will much more of challenge."

Valerica's eyes seemed to dart to the Dragonborn then, but Serana hardly took notice of it. 

Lips parted to reply, Serana only managed to suck in a mouthful of air when she felt someone nudge her in the ribs.

"Serana!" The Dragonborn spoke in a whisper, jabbing a finger to the pair of towers ahead of them. The vampire followed the woman's line of sight, to the empty arch of an impressive doorway leading into the hidden depths of the castle.

The echoing, distant roar that rolled from the clouded midnight sky was soon followed by a massive silhouette cutting into sight between the two crumbling spires. Who she could only assume to be Durnehviir glided upward into sight, then descended rapidly to claim his perch on the the castle's wall with a shudder of the ancient structure.

Durnehviir's huddled figure was merely a blot in Serana's vision through the heavy mist covering the courtyard, but it did little to make the dragon appear any less intimidating.

Her palms were already swirling with frost and a crimson glow when Serana tore her eyes from the faraway threat to throw a glance at their resident dragon-slayer. The Dragonborn had no solid weapon, only her spells, though even with the loss of her blade, the woman was nothing short of master with her destruction magic.

Serana then looked to Valerica.

Her mother still remained in that irritating state of calm, as if a huge killer reptile weren't looming right over them. She only looked to the Dragonborn, her expression... expectant.

"Come on, Serana," The vampire heard the Dragonborn pipe up on her left. "I can take him." She huffed, confidence filling her voice with that sort of bravado she'd been missing these past few terrible days. Serana could almost detect the smirk in her words.

She nodded in agreement. "Of course you can."

The Dragonborn advanced into the middle of the pavilion and brought herself to a pointed halt, facing the idle Durnehviir. She widened her stance, lifting both hands crackling with electricity chest-level.

 _So dramatic._ Serana mused fondly, standing shoulder to shoulder with Valerica who watched the display with thinly-veiled intrigue. More importantly, why was Durnehviir simply still, was he waiting for them to provoke him or something? The Dragonborn could certainly do that.

" _Zu'u jur hi, Durnehviir!_ " The Dragonborn's powerful, silk-like voice boomed throughout the courtyard in Dragon Tongue, loud enough that Serana swore she felt the air vibrate from the force of it. " _Bo amativ ahrk luft zey!_ "

Beside her, Valerica's let out an approving hum.

Serana did not have much time to react to the strangeness of it, because whatever the Dragonborn had uttered in the old language, Durnehviir responded almost immediately.

His shadow grew, twin appendages unfurling themselves from his sides to straighten out completely. Even at where she stood, half a field away from the dragon, Serana could see the jagged fringes of his wings; they looked torn, the skin dotted with holes of varying sizes that didn't make them look any good for flying at all.

" _Zu'u eim, Dovahkiin._ " His much deeper, godly voice rumbled in reply.

The Dragonborn let her charged spell loose as soon as Durnehviir began taking off, the serrated shard of lightning hitting him head-on with an explosion of sparks and smoke.

Serana's ice-cold body was seized by an uncontrollable shudder hearing the resulting enraged roar that shook the air, Durnehviir's colossal form faltering mid-flight and plunging to the courtyard with a shower of grayish dirt and pebbles.

To his credit though, the dragon managed to keep his footing as he was unexpectedly cut down, clawed feet shredding the loose gravel into rivets as he skidded.

Now that he was close, a lot closer than Serana would have preferred, she could clearly make out the dragon's features; Durnehviir was truly terrifying.

Four curved horns lined the hard edges of his skull, his weathered skin a greenish-gray tint, with barbed spikes lining the profound length of his body and tail. He was unlike any sort of dragon Serana had seen before, not that there had been many; the last dragon the Volkihar vampire had laid eyes upon had been a faraway dot in the mortal blue sky, and it most likely didn't have hovering flies or a continuous stream of yellowish drool dripping from its jaws.

Durnehviir's complexion was.. decayed. He looked like the walking, breathing corpse of a dragon. A corpse that could probably bite Serana in half as easily as a strip of taffy.

The undead dragon had crash-landed just before the Dragonborn, who was but an insignificant speck compared to his sheer size and general unpleasantness.

Durnehviir righted himself, scaled feet shuffling to lift his underside from the earth, though his head stayed as if he were trying to remain eye-level with the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn met his beady yellow eyes dauntlessly, bringing her hands together to nurse a steadily growing ball of destruction magic.

Serana was by no means at savant in identifying dragon emotions, but she felt that Durnehviir looked resentful about his unceremonious touchdown, and it showed when his jaws opened to Shout:

" _Fo Krah Diin!_ "

Serana felt a strong grip on her arm, forcibly dragging her to the side and safely out of range of the intense blast of ice that coated the ground in a frostbitten sheen and pricked at her skin like a million tiny knives. The strong momentum kept her feet moving, the hand leading her owned by Valerica, who was dashing for the nearest alcove in the castle's onyx-hued wall.

Serana tore her eyes away from the threat, losing track of the Dragonborn too, to glare at the woman practically dragging her into cover. Her own magic died from between her fingers as she was ushered through a doorway and into the shadows of a small, unfamiliar room.

"What are you doing?" Serana hissed, wrenching herself free of her mother's touch. The worried glance she directed to the courtyard showed the Dragonborn slipping underneath Durnehviir to avoid his snapping mouth trying to catch her like a particularly annoying insect.

Valerica watched the fight passively, before meeting her daughter's scowl with the same indifference.

"She challenged Durnehviir to a duel." Her mother said, and Serana huffed. 

Her every instinct was prodding at her to leap into the fray and fight alongside the Dragonborn. It was only the fact that most of Valerica's body blocked the exit that kept Serana from taking her opportunity of escape.

Durnehviir's Voice cracked the atmosphere of the courtyard with the Frost Breath Shout once again, along with the Dragonborn's blasts of electricity. Serana struggled to keep her attention solely the enigmatic woman in front of her.

"Yes, I can see that mother," Serana retorted scathingly, throwing her hands forward with an amount of sass that would have gotten her cuffed across the head as child. "She's fighting a Dragon and we need to help her!"

Her mother did something strange then. She _smiled_. Well, it was as much as a smile as her stiff personality would allow, but a smile nonetheless. "Have faith. I'm sure the _Dragonborn_ out of any of us will able to best him."

Serana felt whatever rant she had on call pause in her thoughts, lips pursed, looking to Valerica dully in silence for several seconds. The woman had not done anything at all to reveal herself in her mother's presence, so.. "How..?"

Her mother's head shook briefly side to side, blinking slowly. She lifted an index finger, pointing to her own nose. "Honestly, dear, she smells like a dragon. It's not that difficult to figure out."

Serana was not sure what part of that sentence she wanted to feel more offended by, settling with a jaded sigh as her mother's words sunk in. Valerica was right, of course she was right.

The vampire did not speak for moment, using the time to glance over Valerica's shoulder and into the courtyard. The Dragonborn continued to dart around Durnehviir, taking full advantage of his poor mobility to steal hits at him with either her lightning or fire spells.

The beast spun and twisted through the courtyard as quickly as he could, neck bowed and mouth wide to clamp shut into empty spaces with the pops of his teeth. In random places around him were splotches of frost on the dry ground.

"She smells like you, too." Serana's red eyes were drawn back to Valerica, focusing on her mother's face rather than the battle happening past her. She was feeling the immense relief that her body was unable to flush, because this subject her mother was approaching was an embarrassing one.

The very ground underneath them shook when Durnehviir slammed his tail into the courtyard where the Dragonborn had been standing a second before. Serana was starting to wish she was the one dodging Durnehviir's blasts of frost and grabbing jaws, with her mother looking at her with that unbearably knowing expression.

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now, mother." Serana answered tersely at last, much more content to leave the topic unspoken for all eternity. This was hardly the time to discuss this, and especially not with the woman who had abandoned her for a millennia.

Suddenly, Durnehviir let loose a thunderous bellow, though it sounded less pained and more furious. Serana's gaze snapped past Valerica, who glanced over her shoulder to look on as well.

The undead dragon stood surrounded by sizzling trails of lightning, product of a spell that Serana knew the Dragonborn had in her magical arsenal. Durenhviir kicked up a mighty gust as he spread his wings. 

The single flap as Durnehviir went upward gave off enough force to send the Dragonborn stumbling backward. He fled into the purplish sky with a Shout:

" _Rii Vaaz Zol!_ "

Serana experienced another shiver down her spine, recognizing the pulse of power that washed the entire courtyard. That was no regular Dragon Shout.

"He's a necromancer?" She asked in dismay, feeling Valerica's eyes fall upon her when she broke their awkward lull of silence.

A blue wisp ascended to the midnight heavens along with the undead dragon now gliding circles around the Boneyard Castle, shooting skyward before splitting into five separate balls of light that fell to the courtyard and sank into the earth.

Valerica's head tilted back to look through the doorway. "Yes. His Shout is called Soul Tear, it summons multiple dead at once." The Dragonborn stood at the center stone, eyeing the separate pools of blue energy sprouting all along the battlefield. Skeletal hands were emerging from the dirt, clawing their bodies free.

Serana uttered a sharp gasp. Bonemen, Durnehviir was summoning a little army of Bonemen to fight for him.

 _Well, now I have an excuse to join in, she can't possibly fight them all. Outta the way, mother._ Allowing a satisfied half-hearted smirk to grace her lips, Serana had her plan of squeezing past Valerica and charging into battle all ready, that is until another Shout fractured the sky like brittle glass.

" _Strun Bah Qo!_ " This one belonged to the Dragonborn, whose Thu'um released a visible ripple of intensity skyward. Serana did not know the Shout, but it must have not been Dragonrend because it came nowhere near to colliding with the gliding Durnehviir.

Without warning, the already stormy sky was swirling with newly formed clouds, the frequent lightning strikes that the Soul Cairn received doubling in severity. It was utter chaos, the courtyard bursting left and right with brilliant flashes that marred the gravel with craters and sending the blown apart pieces of Bonemen flying.

Overwhelmed by the deafening strokes of energy tearing the Boneyard castle's courtyard to shreds, Serana cringed as each strike met its mark, and through her haze she thought she felt Valerica's palm splayed comfortingly against her back.

Serana could not tell how long this lasted, but by the time the impetuous storm had ended her ears were ringing and she was rattled to the core. The thought-presence of Valerica's hand was also gone.

Through narrowed eyes the vampire searched the absolutely thrashed courtyard for any sign of the Dragonborn.

She stood at the far right corner of the field, facing off with Durnehviir again. The undead dragon must not have been spared the wrath of the sky either, if the scorch marks staining his already frayed scales were anything to go by.

The both of them were looking a little harrowed, Durnehviir with the fresh burns charring his already dilapidated skin, and the Dragonborn standing slightly hunched with a hand clutching the front of her thigh.

Her free hand throbbed with magic, which she thrust toward the downed dragon to allow her tendril of lightning to dance off of her paired middle and index finger. The electricity splintered into Durnehviir's neck, the blast making him sway unsteadily on his two scaled feet, though the Dragon's tail managed to lash out in retaliation.

Whatever injury she had, it must have been serious enough for the woman to be unable to dodge as fast as she normally could, and so the wall of pure dragon-muscle crashed right into her middle and swatted the Dragonborn off her feet.

It was then that Serana felt her body lunging on impulse, attempting to sweep past Valerica who still stood in the way of the exit. Her mother was steadfast, grabbing her daughter's shoulder and using her own to block Serana off.

SErana spoke without ever taking her eyes off the Dragonborn, who was tenderly climbing off of the ground. "Let go of me, mother." She seethed in a threatening tone, baring her teeth to one of the strongest vampires Skyrim had known.

Serana was not sure she _could_ fight her mother if her temper did reach its boiling point, but she was in her way and that needed to change.

"No." Valerica returned in a voice just as sinister, fingers squeezing Serana into a bruising hold. The younger vampire fought not to flinch at the blossoming of discomfort, her fury melting to rationality. What the hell was she doing? No matter how many times she had thought about it, Serana had no desire to physically harm her mother.

The brief flicker of apology that flashed in her expression did not go unnoticed, and with the gentle shove Valerica delivered to require her back up a couple steps the tension between mother and daughter vanished.

Mumbling a _sorry_ , Serana returned her attention to the battle.

The Dragonborn had recollected her wits, rolling sideways to evade Durnehviir's next blast of icy breath. With a surprising amount of grace, she scrambled on her hands and knees and disappeared underneath the undead dragon's chest. Durnehviir wailed in pain when a fire was, quite literally, set underneath him.

The Dragonborn revealed herself at the undead dragon's hind left leg, and Shouted:

" _Iiz Slen Nus!_ "

Durnehviir's head twisted to make a plunge for the Dragonborn, but reeled in what could have been interpreted as surprise when he found his lower half rooted in place. A layer of thick ice had completely encased his back limb and haunches, including most of his tail, gluing it to the grayish dirt underfoot.

A distressed growl curling up his throat, Durnehviir stretched his unrestrained paw backward to claw at the magical ice, carving dents into its surface. More concerned with freeing himself, the undead dragon went oblivious to the woman clambering up onto his spine-covered back, now hurrying her way toward the crown of his skull.

The divine ice weakened, breaking into shards as Durnehviir jerked his once trapped foot from the ground, finally taking heed of the Dragonborn who propped herself upward between the dip of his four horns. In her grip glowed the violet ethereal form of a bound weapon, which she plunged straight into his forehead.

Durnehviir's body was captured in a dying quake, his croak of complaint brutally interrupted. The Dragon's every appendage went limp, his tail first, each wing, and then his head which met the courtyard with a cloud of sickly gray dirt. The Dragonborn followed his listless skull's descent, toppling off balance and landing right on her backside into the ground with a muffled curse.

Serana was hardly aware of Valerica moving aside, the moment her path was open, she had taken it to rush across the courtyard toward the Dragonborn. The woman had simply let her exhausted body go backward when she hit the sand, and laid next to the deceased Durnehviir with her arms fanned out at her sides.

While Serana neared, the Soul Cairn dragon's form became consumed in the realm's characteristic glow, churning and intensifying into a brilliant white. When it faded, Serana was left just as bewildered as the Dragonborn, who had lifted herself into a sitting position to stare dumbly at the vacant spot Durnehviir's corpse had once been.

 _He had no soul..?_ It was logical, Serana thought, as she reached the woman's side and crouched to lay her hand on one of the Dragonborn's shoulders.

"Are you hurt?" She asked worriedly, red eyes scanning over her body to take note of any injuries.

The leather of her Nightingale armor was sliced on the top of her thigh, where blood trickled steadily from a narrow gash, an arrow had nicked her most likely, and her abdomen hitched with each breath, as if the movement induced a twinge of pain.

"No," The Dragonborn replied despite the two obvious grievances, nodding her head once. "No, I'm okay."

Footsteps padded closer to the pair of women, Valerica's, who raised her voice from across the courtyard. "You did not absorb his soul, because he has no soul, Dragonborn." Serana and the Dragonborn both looked to the elder vampire. In her hands was the shimmering golden sleeve of an Elder Scroll.

"Durnehviir is incapable of truly being slain, you have merely displaced his physical form for the time being. It is possible that he is constituting himself as we speak." Her mother drawled on, cupping the legendary scroll delicately with both palms.

The Dragonborn's eyes were on the ancient artifact when she responded. "How long will that take?"

Valerica shrugged, arms held forward to offer the Elder Scroll away. "I am not sure. I don't suggest we wait around to find out." Serana rose to meet her mother, accepting the final Elder Scroll into her own grasp. They had done it. They had actually done it.

"You should be on your way." Valerica spoke not before a single second of triumph had lasted, and unable to hide the pensiveness in her expression, Serana's eyes rose to search her mother's face. Was she really so desperate to get rid of them that swiftly?

"You're staying here?" The Dragonborn questioned breathlessly from the ground, unwilling to waste the energy to drag herself back onto her own two feet.

Serana's fingers twisted tighter around the Scroll's gilded length.

That's right, her mother would be to free to leave if she wished, if she reached the portal before Durnehviir reassembled himself. A childish hope ignited within Serana. Her mother could.. come with them.

Of course, that little spark of hope was crushed not long after its creation.

"I have no choice," Valerica responded with a sigh, red eyes sliding shut. "I am a Daughter of Coldharbour as well, my return to Tamriel would only increase Harkon's chances of completing the prophecy."

Serana's grip only further strangled the delicate artifact. _That's damn bullshit, and you know it mother! There's no way you would be stupid enough to let him capture you!_ Her skull ached with how aggressively she was grinding her teeth together, yet the she said nothing.

"You.." The Dragonborn's voice sounded small, even from her waist-level position. She peered up at Valerica, clearly struggling for the right words to say. "..It doesn't have to be like this forever, you know. We could return for you once it's all over."

 _Thank you, thank you,_ Gods.. How ridiculous was it that the least emotional woman Serana had ever know was doing the heartfelt reasoning on her behalf?

Valerica's body shook with a humorless chuckle, a pithy _heh heh_. "I appreciate your concern, Dragonborn, but," Her mother's entire body seemed to slump, genuine compassion lighting her voice. "Serana is all that I care about, worry about her instead."

Serana would have seen the earnest smile that her mother had flashed then, if her watery eyes were not so intensely boring a hole into the middle of the Scroll she clutched in her hands.

 _All that I care about, huh?_ Maybe she was just delusional from stress, that could it be it. For whatever reason, Serana was feeling the inescapable urge to burst into a sobbing fit, preferably in Valerica's arms. It was a feeling she had not known since she was a girl, and it burned like acid the center of her chest.

So intensely craving the motherly love she had not received since the start of her family's spiral into madness, Serana promptly shoved the Elder Scroll in the direction of the Dragonborn, and threw herself right into Valerica's chest.

"Thank you, Mother." She managed through a mental wall of emotions and embarrassment clouding her senses, molding into the embrace that had been a comfort so long ago instead of the foreign perception it had become of late.

It did not take as much time as Serana would have guessed, until Valerica returned the gesture. "You're the only thing I have of value, anymore Serana."

Despite what the Dragonborn may say, Serana did _not_ begin crying in Valerica's arms then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dragon talk was just the Dragonborn saying "Fight me!" and Durnehviir going "yea okay". Not much to explain there.


	19. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"For countless years I've roamed the Soul Cairn in unintended service to the Ideal Masters. Before this, I roamed the skies above Tamriel. I desire to return there. Trivial in your mind perhaps, to me, it would mean a great deal." - Durnehviir_

Durnehviir was waiting for them at the threshold of the castle.

He sat perched on a slab of loose onyx colored stone, wings slack, shimmering with purple light, and positioned on his scaly haunches like a hound patiently awaiting the return of its master at the doorstep.

Serana and the Dragonborn paused just a couple steps outside of the ridiculously tall doorway, the other woman partially leaning against Serana with a limp in her step and a quickly reddening strip of cloth wrapped around her thigh.

The hand belonging to the arm she had hung across Serana's shoulders clenched at the sight of the very dragon she had slain just minutes before.

Sensing movement, Durnehviir's reptilian, sun glow eyes shifted in their direction, head soon to follow in pointing in their way. The violet sheen covering his still ragged complexion disappeared a second later. 

Serana could practically feel the tension beginning to coil the Dragonborn's body beside her, preparing herself for another fight, experiencing a brief jolt of panic herself at the intimidating dragon's presence. He had reformed awfully fast, it seemed that the dragon truly was as untouchable as Valerica had claimed.

She gritted her teeth, gazing up at the docile Dragon. Was he really here to fight again? Would they even be able to defeat him a second time with the Dragonborn in such spent shape?

The both of them jerked slightly and sucked in sharp breaths when Durnehviir made his move: slowly lowering his outstretched neck, so that his head was directly eye-level them.

The Dragonborn and Serana's hostility were immediately replaced by bewilderment.

"Uhm.." Serana heard her companion hum uncertainly at her side as she untangled herself from the other vampire to stand on her own, heavily favoring her uninjured leg.

Lips pursed with an expression of equal confusion, Serana's gaze flitted to the Dragonborn, then to Durneviir, searching the beast's face. Once again, she was no Dragon Whisperer, but the vampire detected not a single ill intent burning within Durneviir's yellow eyes. So, what was he doing here?

"Still yourselves, I would like to speak with you, Dovahkiin." The ancient dragon spoke at last in his gravelly, deep voice. His accent was quite thick, struggling by each Nordic syllable, though his words were legible.

Serana, too awed by the amount of sentience the mythical beast possessed, barely registered the Dragonborn's reply of "I thought I killed you."

"No," A thunderous rumble rolled from the beast's chest, something similar to a tired sigh, Serana felt. "Cursed, not dead. Doomed to exist in this form for eternity. Trapped, between _laas_ and _dinok_."

Even as Durneviir's speech switched to draconic for the last bit, Serana was feeling stupidly grateful for the dragon's use of Nordic so that she may understand him herself. 

"Life and death?" The Dragonborn inquired, though when the question left her mouth and Durnehviir's muzzle was already bobbing up and down in confirmation, she shook her head fiercely.

"Wait, you tried to kill me! Why are we even speaking?" She barked accusingly, attempting to square herself into a more upright position, but instead wobbling unsteadily with a wince onto her hurt leg.

It successfully freed Serana from her wonder-like trance, and her body automatically reached for the woman. She reclaimed her duty as the Dragonborn's crutch, stepping up the woman's weight-bearing side and prompting her into leaning against her again.

Durnehviir allowed this to happen, before giving his response calmly. "My apologies, the hostility was necessary. I am bound to an oath."

The undead dragon continued before the woman could retort, her arm held forward with a finger pointed to the dragon and mouth open. "I believe in civility between warriors, and I find you worthy of my words."

The Dragonborn recoiled back at that, dropping her arm with a flash of shock crossing her face. "Oh, uh.. thanks?"

Durnehviir's large form shuddered with another huff, this one sounding.. amused?

"My claws have rended the flesh of innumerable foes, but I have never once been felled on the field of battle. I therefore honor-name you, _Qahnaarin_ ," His godly voice turned the title into music, though the affect was lost with his hastily added translation: "..or _Vanquisher_ in your tongue."

Serana could sense the animosity the Dragonborn felt for the undead dragon vanish; the slightest of twitches tugged at one corner of her lip, fighting to suppress a smile. "Oh." Her hand lifted to her mouth in a futile attempt to smother it, the tips of her fingers brushing against her top lip. "I'm flattered, Durnehviir. I found you to be an equally worthy opponent."

The Dragonborn was practically glowing at Durnehviir's praise, and Serana could imagine the lovely shade of pink her cheeks would be flushing if not for her current.. condition. She really was pleased about this.

Durnehviir was no better. The beast's horned head ducked at the woman's words, almost bashfully, his eyes darting sideways. Serana would like to believe that the undead dragon was smiling alongside the Dragonborn, if such a thing was possible. "Your words do me a great honor," He rumbled in reply, "My desire to speak with you is a result of our battle, _Qahnaarin_. I wish to ask a favor of you."

The Dragonborn stood to attention, balancing herself on her other leg, face lighting up with an adorable eagerness. "Yes, what kind of favor?"

Durnehviir's colossal body shifted once more with a labored exhale. The flies clinging to his skull scattered into the sulfuric air with an audible chorus of buzzing because of the disturbance.

"For countless years I've patrolled the Soul Cairn in unintended service to the Ideal Masters. Long before this, I roamed the skies above Tamriel. I desire to return there." The ancient beast explained with a sort of melancholy gloom beginning to hang about him.

 _The Ideal Masters?_ Serana pondered silently, lips pursed. It did not sound as if Durnehviir was very happy with this arrangement; had the Ideal Masters tricked him into a deal he could not back out of somehow? One thing was certain, the Dragon was desperate for the mortal world. Serana did not blame him, if he had spent as many centuries as she guessed in this hellscape.

"What's stopping you?" The Dragonborn asked, head tilting and causing her earrings to jingle. Above them, the rolling sky growled, multiple lances of lightning striking in the distance.

"I fear that my time here has taken its toll upon me," Durnehviir slumped, the claws of the appendages on his wings scraping the weathered stone he sat upon. "My strength would wane until I was no more if I ventured too far from the Soul Cairn."

"I see.." Serana's curious expression shifted from Durnehviir to the Dragonborn, whose hand had lifted to cup her chin to ask the million-coin question. "..How would _I_ be able help you return to the mortal world?"

Serana could see every single cord-like muscle moving beneath his tattered scales as Durnehviir re-inflated, his head rising from its eye-level position. His deep voice was sweetened by the hope lining his words. "I will grant you the right to call my name from Tamriel. Do me this honor and I will fight by your side, as your _Grah-Zeymahzin_ , and teach you my Thu'um."

Serana's eyes flashed with intrigue. The Dragonborn would be able to summon him, just like one could with Conjuration spells?

"If it's really that simple.." The Dragonborn murmured into her palm, then let it fall to her side to uncover the small grin she flashed at Durnehviir. "Yes, I'll do this for you."

Durnehviir responded with pleased sort of purr deep in the back of his throat. "Just speak my name to the heavens when you feel the time is right, _Qahnaarin._ "

"Oh!" Serana eyed the woman peculiarly at the outburst, who leaned onto the ball of her unhurt foot toward the dragon. "I've been meaning to ask, why _Qahnaarin_? I may be a slayer of dragons, but I'm no Dovah."

 _She does have the soul of one though, so what's the difference?_  Serana thought to herself, her gaze meandering back to Durnehviir.

"Even here, the defeat of the World Eater has reached my ears, Dovahkiin." Durnehviir retorted. The woman somehow seemed to pale, her entire body going rigid. Serana however, had to fight off a gasp. "You may not be Dovah, but the defeat of Alduin has more than earned you this title."

 _What?!_ The woman had faced the World Eater himself? Why was this the first that Serana was hearing of it?

Eyes narrowed, Serana threw a look to the Dragonborn, who stiffened even more feeling the glare on her.

The woman raised her hand to massage the back of her neck nervously, face downcast. "Uh.. yes.. thank you, Durnehviir. We should be going.." 

Durnehviir's smoldering eyes blinked once, "Of course, safe travels, _Qahnaarin_."

The Dragonborn merely gave a languid wave of her hand as the ancient dragon's torn wings unfurled.

He lifted into the violet and midnight sky with a single powerful thrust, producing a gust of force that rocked the vampires on their heels, and leaving Serana to wonder if she truly knew the Dragonborn as well as she had liked to think.

* * *

The portal to Nirn was a brilliant violet beacon in the murky midnight sky overhead, wisps of clouds and smoke swirling in the dissonance of power. Hovering individual slabs of stone acted as its stairwell, bobbing slightly up and down in unison.

At its base stood Serana on the solid ground, the Dragonborn held bridal-style in her arms. After an interesting turn of events that involved a great deal of swearing and stumbling, the woman had agreed to be carried the rest of the trek to the thankfully still-active portal, grumbling the entire time.

"So we've finally made it here." The Dragonborn huffed, her expression not available to Serana seeing as she made it quite a point to only look forward, too flustered by the idea of her face being within inches of Serana's bosom if she turned only slightly to the left.

It was cute, Serana thought inwardly, the smuggest, smallest smile not having left her lips since their arrangement was made back at the threshold of the Boneyard Castle. Also, the woman was hardly an issue to lug around.

"That we have," Serana said in a breathy tone that feigned exhaustion, her eyes falling from the mass of light overhead to rest at the newly acquired Elder Scroll balanced in the Dragonborn's lap. "Just one more staircase to go. The sooner we get this scroll to Dexion, the sooner we can deal with Harkon."

The Dragonborn glanced to the Scroll as well, pouting, but in a thoughtful sort of way. "Yes.. just.. get on with it, would you? This place creeps me out just as much as you." Serana felt the tips of her fingers brushing the nape of her neck as the woman slid one of her arms free to touch the wound on her bloodstained thigh. "And my leg is killing me."

Momentarily, a grimace replaced the curve of Serana's mouth, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Instead, Serana sniffed mockingly, readjusting her grip on the woman before lifting her boot to the first step.

"A please would have been nice," She retorted as she started the journey to the top, the Dragonborn quickly returning her arm in its place draped over Serana's shoulders for support, gazing worriedly down at the cut that continued to trickle red.

She could not think of much to say after that, the ungodly tension of the issue hanging between them almost palpable the further Serana climbed toward the doorway that connected worlds. The intensity of the glow was starting to sting.

"Serana," The Dragonborn's voice broke the air below her, just a couple steps from the harsh shimmer of the portal. "Why isn't my healing magic working?"

Serana wavered, head downcast and eyes squeezed shut. "You're not going to like the answer." Unsure whether or not the reply had reached the Dragonborn's ears, she surged up into the churning portal of light that swallowed them like the hungry waves of a thrashing violet sea.

* * *

The sun was an unforgiving presence bearing down on her from above, bleeding into her bones and setting her lungs afire. Between it, and the nagging reminder of the puncture in her leg, the Dragonborn was a limping bundle of pain and nerves using Serana as crutch up the cobblestone-lined hill toward the gates of Solitude.

Once upon a time, the salt-ridden seashore air combined with the soothing warmth of the very bane of her existence at this moment had been absolutely blissful, and now.. The Dragonborn was wishing to take back all those times in the past when she had coaxed Serana into marching another couple of hours through daylight for the sake of crunching time. This was utter _agony_.

Thankfully, her companion was in a much better state, practically carrying her again as they trudged to the massive double doors of the capital of Skyrim that was already being shoved inward by the pair of guards at either side of it with the groan of wood and metal.

The Dragonborn would have to remember to personally thank them sometime, only managing a feeble nod of her head to the armored man closest to her, careful to allow the look to only last a second and not a moment more, conscious of her new set of rather intimidating eyes.

As their feet crossed into the boundaries of the city of Solitude and the gates were closing behind them, the Dragonborn stopped and stood unsteadily on her own with a recharging breath. Serana was quick to comply, her face partially hidden by the shadows cast by her pulled-up hood.

The Dragonborn found her gaze was drawn to the other vampire's lips when she spoke, hands propped on her hips and not bothering to hide her shock. "You live _here_?"

Actually, she had many houses in almost every major city of Skyrim, but Solitude had been the closest. That sounded very pompous, she realized, and decided to keep that information to herself for the time being.

With what energy she had to waste on cheekiness, the corners of the Dragonborn's lips twitched, her aching chest swelling with a short chuckle. "You don't have to sound so surprised." She shot back, hunched over with her palms on her knees.

Solitude was definitely her favorite city out of them all. It had that sort of grandness she had become accustomed to in High Rock, and no matter how snobby or condescending her neighbors could be at times, the Dragonborn was fond of the place. Jarl Elisif was also a lot more.. bearable than the others, choosing to treat her like a trusted friend instead of a servant to jump at their every beck and call.

The Dragonborn could only see Serana's mouth with her hood over her head, parting to flash a fanged grin in reply. "It's just.. strange to me and all, being back here after such a long time... I'll keep on being skeptical until I get to see _where_ you live."

She shook with an amused snort, though the movement set off a whole array of discomfort that ended with the Dragonborn wincing like she'd been sucker punched in the gut. The bustle of the citizens was background noise at this point, her sheer fatigue having crept up on her closer and closer the longer she remained motionless beneath the glare of the sun. She really needed to get to her house and out of this accursed life-giving light.

Serana's lovely smile dropped, her motions slow as she reached out to rest a hand on the Dragonborn's shoulder. At least she did not look as if she were about to keel over where she stood. "You okay?"

The Dragonborn nodded, unconsciously leaning into the touch, straightening herself to stand upright. She tested her resolve, taking a shaking step forward with Serana hovering next to her like a mother hen. "I can make it to my house at least," She finally sighed, powering through the leaden feeling of her muscles and setting pace down the street. _I can't wait to wipe that doubt off your pretty little face, Princess._

Familiar people crossed her vision, Sayma standing at the door of the Bits and Pieces chatting with a disgruntled-looking Endarie who had most likely been snagged into a conversation, Kayd darting past in a blur with another child hot on his heels, and Fihada harassing Evette at her own market stall for a better deal. The Dragonborn hurried on, hoping none of them would be able to recognize her, even with the absence of her iconic helmet.

Serana kept her hand on her through it all, an anchoring feeling the total static that her senses were melting into. They passed beneath the arch of the guard's lookout walkway and were blanketed in shade for a wonderful second before the sunlight went back to drilling into their backs. Her house was not much farther now.

A guard walked by, just before the fork in the pathway, and with a strained breath the Dragonborn tried to make herself appear less haggard looking, gritting her teeth and letting her left hand drift downward to clutch her thigh. Thankfully, the man went on without so much as a second-glance, and the woman continued to limp until she reached the end of the street, Serana still clinging to her.

"Please tell me we're close, you look like you're about to collapse." Serana worried beside her, her voice brimming with concern.

Even despite how overwhelmingly drained she felt, the Dragonborn huffed bemusedly, raising her hand to point to the nearest home on the right, Proudspire Manor, the result of the blood and sweat she had shed into serving Jarl Elisif.

Serana's gasp of shock, muffled by her palm, was totally worth the extra effort. "No way."

Grinning, the Dragonborn made her way toward to the front door of the house, the other vampire trailing her with her head tilted back as she walked to take in the details of the massive building.

It may not have been a Castle Volkihar, but there was no denying that the manor was impressive in its own rights. It certainly was one of the grandest residences in Solitude, aside from the Blue Palace.

Approaching its entrance, the Dragonborn almost reached around to her back for her key, but remembering with a stifled groan, she crouched and uncovered a spare from the crevices between the bricks of the wall at the foot of the door. Serana kindly shielding her from the sunlight by standing behind her, the woman jammed it into the keyhole and with a click, desperately shoved her way inside.

A sigh of relief escaping her, the Dragonborn immediately headed left, through an arched doorway and into the den where an empty fireplace stood surrounded by chairs and couches. She slumped into the closest one with half-lidded eyes, the creak of the door's hinges sounding as Serana shut it for her.

So, she was home at last, with Serana of all people. This felt.. undeniably awkward already, _but_ she had more serious things to worry about, like the open wound in her leg and the fact that no matter how much healing magic she poured into it, nothing happened.

Soon enough, her companion came through the entrance connected to hallway, probably having dawdled in the threshold looking around. Serana's endless curiosity was always entertaining, the Dragonborn acknowledged with a weak smile.

Serana looked down at her, where she sat slowly sinking further and further into the cushions of the seat, entirely unreadable, at least, until she decided to speak while gesturing to her with her hand. "Alright, take it off."

 _That_ wasn't what she was expecting, to say the least.

Sputtering on her breath, the Dragonborn jerked upright. "Excuse me?" Sure, the vampire had blatantly flirted with and teased her in the past, but she'd never been _this_ forward.

One of Serana's brows raised, her expression somehow neutral throughout the exchange. "We need to clean and dress your wounds, you can't heal them yourself, as you're well aware."

 _Oh.. right._ The Dragonborn was certain that if she were not essentially a walking corpse, she would be as red as a Snowberry. Her fatigue was really messing her ability to think rationally. _But still.._

"I know that, but I'm not going to just.. strip on command!" She retorted defensively, shrinking further into the seat.

When Serana's empty look suddenly broke into a smirk, the Dragonborn was feeling very.. small. "Oh come on, quit being a prude, it's not like you'll have anything I haven't seen before."

The Dragonborn was not sure whether she liked this side of Serana better than her usual "polite" personality. She couldn't deal with this  _and_ the hole in her leg right now.

The woman pulled herself to her feet, eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'm going upstairs to undress, _alone_ ," With a bit of emphasis on that last word, she staggered past Serana, through the doorway, and to the foot of the staircase. 

"Okay..." Serana hummed in a nearly whimsical tone after her. 

The cut in her leg aching, the Dragonborn climbed the single flight to step into a sparkling sunbathed room, the window on the far wall a mosaic of honey-tinted glass. Shying away from the light that she had once basked in like a lazing cat, the woman retreated to the single door on the left wall, shuffling into her bedroom and sitting on her mattress heavily.

To think, it had been nearly a month since she had set foot inside _any_ of her homes. She was lucky a film of dust hadn't settled over everything here. She was lucky that she was able to return at all. 

Sighing, the Dragonborn's numb fingers rose to grab at the clip of her cape. Unhooking it from the collar of her cuirass, she tossed it aside carelessly, glancing down at herself. Getting out of this armor was going to be a real hassle.

She could hear Serana moving around downstairs, as she managed to peel herself out of the completely ruined Nightingale armor, even with it sullied with her own blood and sticking to her skin like molasses.

Grimacing, she secured the other side of it with her free hand, and held the armor in front of her. Would Nocturnal maybe just.. give her a spare? Repairing this damage was not going to be easy. 

Dropping it in a tattered heap to the stone floor, she stood in nothing but her smallclothes, and sighing once more she glanced downward to look over herself.

A vivid purple and blue bruise had blossomed across her abdomen, tender to the touch and jolting with pain with every breath.

 _Durnehviir really did a number on me.._ She mused to herself, gingerly gliding the tips of her fingers across the mark in her pale skin. They dipped into the shallow reminders of her.. incident at Volkihar Castle, two identical and diagonal scars that created an X over her navel.

She felt a shudder, and quickly pulled her hand away. It wasn't as if she'd never been hurt that badly before. Her body was already littered with scars from her past adventures, and she was definitely no stranger to suffering.  

The Dragonborn swallowed thickly, her hand in the process of travelling to her neck when Serana's impending arrival was sounded by the drop of boots up the stairs.

She flinched, looking to the doorway and lowering her hand back to her side. She should at least make herself decent before Serana reached the room. 

Shaking her head dismally, the Dragonborn approached the vanity, purposely keeping her eyes from falling upon the large mirror right in front of her. Crouching, and muttering a curse when the cut in her leg felt a jolt of pain, she had wrapped her fingers around the knob of the bottom drawer when there was a knock on the slightly open door. 

"Can I come in?" Serana's muffled voice sounded from the other side. 

The Dragonborn hesitated, tightening her grip around the brass handle. Did she.. care if Serana saw her like this? She didn't think that she did. It was _Serana_ , after all, and what did she have to hide? 

"...One second." The woman replied tiredly, yanking the drawer open. She pulled out a blouse, and slipped it over her head as she stood upright. Twisting herself around, the Dragonborn looked to the bed with half-open eyes.

She could feel the heaviness of exhaustion in her bones, weighing in her lungs and chest as she drew in another slow breath. Her body was aching all over, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse somewhere and sleep every ounce of stress she carried out of her, but..

The woman looked down. 

From the cut in her leg streams of dark red were beginning to trail down her bare leg, nearly to her feet at this point. The blood.. it was nearly black, and the Dragonborn had to blink several times just to get it through her head. 

Lifting her fingers to comb them through her bangs languidly, the woman began limping forward, a frown upon her lips. 

"Come on," She called to Serana as she settled herself back into a sitting position on the bed. 

The door creaked as Serana pressed herself into it, swinging it open with her body. Her hands were full with a roll of bandages, two bottles, and a cloth dripping with water. 

Serana said nothing as she set her various supplies out on the nightstand, the roll of bandages, two bottles, one a vibrant soft red, and the other a dark crimson, and keeping the wet cloth cupped in the palm of her right hand.

The Dragonborn eyed the pair of bottles, to busy lingering with silent dread on the darker of the two to feel Serana's fingers grasping her bare leg, stretching it outward and sweeping the cloth tenderly over the wound in her thigh.

The bottle was stout and ornate, its contents a terrifyingly familiar shade.

"You're going to have to, at some point, you know that, right?" The Dragonborn's attention was snatched back to the present by her companion's chillingly solemn voice; eyes wide, the woman looked at Serana, who with the tips of her index and middle finger was coating the gash in healing balm and refusing to make eye contact.

"Or you're going to waste away, day by day, until the thirst drives you mad." She continued softly, retracting her hand to wipe it clean on the slightly red-tinged cloth. She kept her eyes averted, setting the soaked fabric to the floor and reaching for the roll of bandages. "Your healing magic won't work on you anymore. You'll regenerate on your own, but only after you've.. you know."

The Dragonborn could do nothing but twitch mutely, fists forming at either side of her to contain the shudders biting down her skin.

It _was_ inevitable, as much as she hated to admit it. But...

Her eyes wandered back to the single bottle resting on her endtable, a wave of revulsion instantly causing her stomach to flip and lip to curl. Would she really be able to go through with it? This was her humanity on the line, after all..

 _Please, you could have barely been considered human before.. before this..._ The Dragonborn scoffed internally with no outward betrayal, drawn back to reality once again by the pressure squeezing around her thigh.

Serana secured the wrappings in place with a final tug, her touch falling away to sit back and look over her work. Her arm extended, this time grasping the round base of the potion and offering it to the Dragonborn.

 _You aren't really going to do this, are you?_ A tiny voice urged somewhere in the back of her head, but the woman accepted it anyway, cupping it falteringly between her palms.

Serana got to her feet, gathering what she had brought, and sighed before vanishing through the doorway. "I'll.. leave you alone."

The Dragonborn could not take her eyes off the glass container in her hands.

It trembled in her grip, knuckles flushing , the bottle was lifted nearer, fingers clawing at the cork. It popped loose and the Dragonborn held it, the rim of the potion beneath her nose, tantalizingly close.

She inhaled, eyes sliding shut.

It smelled heavenly, the Dragonborn thought bitterly, plunging the bottle's cork back in place. Suddenly, a severe hunger that she had never thought possible flooded every inch of her being, clawing at her insides and screaming in outrage due to her actions.

 _What are you doing?_ _You_ need _that!_ It wailed, jarring in her skull.

Growling, the Dragonborn forced herself back to her feet, wanting to fling the red container she held against the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. Instead, she clutched it to her chest, and brought it with her to the vanity against the wall.

Ignoring the trepidation mingling with the cloud of chaos brewing within her own mind, she raised her gaze to the mirror in front of her.

The reflection that stared back at her was not at all the woman she had known. She and her thoughts took a split-second of pause, to come to terms with the fact that the red-eyed, pale, and scarred person on the surface of the glass was indeed "her".

_A vampire. Look at you.. one of them._

The Dragonborn saw the flash of despair in her own terrifying red eyes, before tearing her gaze away from the image. She looked down at the ornate little bottle still in her hands, and she gripped it a little tighter.

 _Don't you dare start feeling sorry for yourself._ Her conscious suddenly barked through the roaring of her own thirst. _This isn't a curse. It's a gift. A gift.. from Serana._

She lifted her face back to the mirror, expression hardened with determination.

_You've brought the World Eater to his knees, faced down the Daedric Princes, and set foot in Oblivion itself, what's a couple of sharpened teeth going to do?_

Air hissing past her lips, the Dragonborn sneered at her own reflection.

_That's right. You're strong. Embrace this like any other challenge that's been thrown at you._

Her fingers fumbled blindly, and some part angrily at the seal of the bottle, until she popped it open once again.

So she was a vampire now, huh? So be it.


	20. A Night to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Dragonborn has a Daedric artifact in her possession, and when Serana asks about it she's told a story of legendarily unfortunate experiences that she went through to acquire it._

_As my da used to say - Imperials are idiutts!_

_That is why I am riting this book. I ent never rote a book before, and I do not reckon to rite one agenn, but sometimes a man must do what a man must do. And what I must do is set the recerd strate about the god called Akatosh and the dragon called Alduin. They ent the same thing, no matter what them Imperials mite say, or how thay mite wish it to be so._

This book, _Alduin is Real_ , was absolutely terrible, but Serana went on, reading, but not _really_ reading. Her eyes skimmed the pages, her thoughts a different place entirely.

_...Now I hope you understand the problim. Akatosh is good. Everyone, from Nord to Imperial noes that. But Alduin? He ent good! He's the oposit of good! That Alduin is evil thrue and thrue. So you see, Akatosh and Alduin cant be one and the same._

Alduin. Akatosh.

Akatosh was the Chief deity of the Nine Divines, The Dragon God of Time. Alduin was The World Eater, a harbinger of the apocalypse.

The Dragonborn.. had defeated him, Alduin. She had vanquished a being that was considered a God to some. It was a mind-blowing thought, despite every other unbelievable thing that Serana had seen the woman do with her own two eyes.

 _This_ is why Skyrim revered her so, why the Jarls coveted her public support, and why the smarter bandits sometimes overlooked her entirely when she traveled by road.

She was a hero, to more than just Serana, to the entire country.

Sighing, the vampire at last shifted her gaze from the pages before her, and closed her eyes. She gently clamped the illiterately-written book shut, and squeezed it between her palms.

It would be petty of her to be angry with the Dragonborn over something as trivial as the woman _not_ telling her that she had fought the World Eater and won.

The woman had a thousand more things to worry about, such as the condition Serana had all but forced upon her.

Serana scarcely ever recalled those memories anymore, but she could remember her mortal days. When she was just a young woman, barely out of her teenage years. She had been so naive, so arrogant then, but she was still _human_. She still had her morals, her empathy, but those qualities had quickly been wiped away once she had been brought to Molag Bal.

It had been utter hell, both during the ritual and adapting to her newfound bloodlust afterwards.

It was not so easy to just throw your humanity to the side when barely a week ago the thought of consuming another human being's blood was unthinkable. Serana was all too well acquainted with the feelings this situation brought about.

In fact, what the hell was she doing, here, in this empty room with an awful book in her hands? She should be at the woman's side, well, if that was what the Dragonborn wanted. She needed to find out, right now.

 _You damn fool, daydreaming away precious time that could be spent with her._ Serana berated herself as she weaved around the various lavish loveseats and chairs decorating the den.

The fireplace on the far wall crackled with the embers of the dying flames that had been warming the vampire's polar body for the past couple of hours, and Serana left them to fade on their own, passing through the doorway and into the threshold of the manor.

The book, forgotten, but still clasped between both of her hands, the vampire stepped left to the staircase against the right side of the wall leading downward after a brief pause. The home may have been large, but not enough to hide the presence of its owner padding around quietly a floor below.

Descending the stairs, Serana strained her keen hearing to determine the exact location of the Dragonborn, making sure to put a little more force into her usually unheard footfalls to announce herself.

Already halfway down the stairwell, the vampire hesitated, nearly missing the next step and catching the heel of her boot on its edge.

Would the woman even care for her company right now? Was this the right decision?

With a sigh, the vampire closed her eyes, shaking her head back and forth to escape the fog that had settled in her head. Well, it was too late to turn back now, and the Dragonborn was already aware of her arrival. Stopping the middle of the staircase just to climb back up without a single word would be undoubtedly awkward for the both of them.

Serana continued downward, releasing the book from her right hand to let her arm hang at her side. She hadn't an idea what she was going to be doing down here, it wasn't as if she came prepared with an entire conversation planned out.

This time was supposed to be spent relaxing, recuperating, and preparing to set off on their quest again, and yet Serana was as wired as ever. She had been brimming with restless energy the moment they entered the Soul Cairn, and the events that had occurred in between had been anything _but_ soothing. The Dragonborn, however, did seem to be a lot more.. subdued Serana would say. At least she was finding some reprieve after such a terrible experience at Volkihar Castle.

The vampire finally touched the ground floor, slipping out of the shadow of the stairwell to turn right into the short hallway. Lifting her eyes, Serana spotted the very woman herself waiting for her. She wore the catsuit of her usual armor, and must have been in the process of assembling it together if the one gauntlet and metal shin guards adorning her were anything to go by.

Her soft, welcoming smile was endearing, and Serana couldn't help but flash one of her own as she shortened the distance between them.

"Hello, Serana." The Dragonborn greeted her warmly, setting aside the sleek-looking dagger that had been occupying her hands on the rim of the circular pit of coals set in the center of the room; Serana had no clue what it's purpose was, but she didn't care enough to ask either. "Do you need anything?"

At first, the vampire just shook her head silently, before answering. She fiddled with the thickly-bound book's edges with her fingers. "No, I'm alright.. just.." Serana resisted the urge to sigh again, anxiety flooding her chest.

Desperately she hoped she had not interrupted anything, and was feeling ridiculous for the woman's ability to reduce the ancient vampire to a flustered mess without even trying. How was she going to explain herself? She just wanted to be near her, that wasn't strange.. right?

Frowning slightly, Serana managed to return her wandering eyes to the Dragonborn's now concerned expression. Great, now she had the woman worrying over her. "Sorry, it was getting a little stale up there in the den. Is it alright if I just.. hang around down here?"

The Dragonborn's expression lit up in the most beautiful display of delight at the suggestion that Serana nearly swooned on the spot. How could a woman who could most likely murder a man four different ways with nothing but a wooden spoon manage to be so incredibly cute?

"Oh, that'd be fine, Serana." She agreed with a newly returned grin, twisting around to gesture to the nearest seat tucked between an alchemy table and a massive shelf lined with ingredients. With an acknowledging dip of her chin, Serana moved past the woman to the chair, the Dragonborn's voice sounding behind her. "I was just doing a little organizing, I let this place get so cluttered.."

 _It hardly looks that messy,_ Serana commented internally while lowering into the seat. Raising her head to sweep around the unfamiliar room, she took back the thought when her eyes fell upon the alcove in the left side of the wall.

The entire space of it was overflowing with weapons and artifacts of all kinds. On the walls hung metal and wooden racks with hooks on them to display various maces, swords, daggers, staves, and axes. There was a mahogany cabinet in the back of the alcove, its surface covered with what looked like.. dragon feet? They were made of metal, silver, gold, ivory, and iron. Their claws were shiny, and looked like they could be made of gem.

Also, there was a massive.. rose?

A large blood red rose could clearly be seen propped up on its own velvet-covered display near the bottom of the right wall; it was nearly as long as a staff, with twisted thorns sprouting down its stem.

The sight of it stirred a nagging familiarity within Serana, and lips pursed, she couldn't notice the Dragonborn's bemused gaze upon her as she tried to recall its name. This went on for what could have been seconds or minutes, until at last, it clicked.

Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of debauchery. That rose.. that rose was his artifact, wasn't it? Where in Oblivion could the Dragonborn have gotten her hands on _that_?

"Is that..?" The Volkihar vampire began slowly, allowing her words to hang between them as she tore her gaze away from the Rose to glance doubtfully at the Dragonborn.

Smiling with mirth, the woman nodded.

 _No way in hell._ Eyes wide, Serana watched as the Dragonborn entered the alcove and reached for the overgrown flower. Maneuvering around the wicked looking thorns lining its length, her glove covered hands wrapped around its handle to lift it from its stand.

Serana huffed in disbelief, but honestly, the prospect that the Dragonborn had actually come face-to-face with a Daedric Prince wasn't that far-fetched at this point. "Why in the world do you have Sanguine's Rose?"

"Hmm," The Dragonborn hummed beneath her breath, carrying the Rose with her to the coal pit. She propped herself up on the side of the stone ring, the look on her face developing into something sheepish. Serana figured that her cheeks would be a faint tinge of pink, as her fingers lifted to brush anxiously across the side of her neck.

Her answer was infuriatingly cryptic and short. "It's a long story."

She could _not_ do this to Serana. The woman had a _Daedric_ artifact, and she expected _that_ reply to be adequate enough to explain how it had fallen into her possession? Serana wouldn't stand for it.

"Oh, no, no, _no_." Serana started, raising an index finger and waving it at the Dragonborn. The woman's head shot up, one of her brows quirked. "You can't just leave it at that, that's Sanguine's Rose!" Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but Serana had nothing better to discuss, and this could prove to be pretty entertaining if the woman actually did decide to share her tale.

The Dragonborn shook with a quiet chuckle, placing the staff fully in her lap to free her hands. "Okay, alright.."

"...I was twenty three, freshly graduated from the College of Winterhold and travelling the wildernesses of Skyrim with the hopes of returning to my homeland, High Rock.

Fortunately, I was able to reach the border without too much trouble, unfortunately, I had arrived at the worst possible time. I'd found myself right between a civil war; the Imperial army's General Tullius himself was there along with a good hundred soldiers and a ragtag group of Stormcloaks fleeing from them.

Mistaking me for a Stormcloak, how, I have no clue, those Imperials were complete morons..

Anyway, I was captured and hopelessly outnumbered. I was stuffed into a prisoner transport carriage with a couple of the Stormcloaks, a horse thief, and their leader, Ulfric. We were brought to Helgen, a tiny village in the mountains looming over Riverwood. I sincerely thought I was going to meet my end there, in that hovel of a place; the Imperials ruthlessly executed each prisoner they had hauled in, no matter of their crime, and I was next.

You'll never guess who my knight in shining armor turned out to be.

Just as the executioner's ax was raising and preparing to slice my head clean off, a dragon arrived. In the midst of all the chaos, I made my escape, and along with a Stormcloak soldier who had led me through the tunnels beneath Helgen Keep and to freedom, I made it to Riverwood.

The citzens of Riverwood urged me to take this news of the dragon in Helgen to the Jarl of Whiterun, so I did.

Night had fallen, and standing at the entrance of the city, Dragonsreach looked so far away. Giving into my exhaustion, instead I went to the inn, The Bannered Mare. That's where I met this man, Sam Guevenne."

* * *

A cozy, pleasant smelling atmosphere greeted her as a weary-looking young woman pushed her way through the double doors of the Bannered Mare Inn. The space she stepped into was flooded with warmth, song, and the chatter of its patrons. The room was completely bathed in a soothing orange courtesy of the large fire pit at the center of it, people gathering on stone benches to share its heat and socialize.

Unsettled by the large group of strangers, the woman stood at the threshold of the building for a moment, easing the heavy doors shut behind her. She tugged self-consciously at the rim of her hood with her fingers, and breathed out of her mouth sharply.

Unfortunately, this was the only place she could turn to in Whiterun, and with her fatigued body begging for a rest, there was no way she could refuse the opportunity.

Letting out a tired sigh, the young woman let her gaze wander around the inn, searching for an open space to settle down.

Curiously enough, the bar seemed to be the only spot with ample enough room; it was empty besides a black haired man wearing an equally dark robe. He was very absorbed with his mug of alcohol, his elbows propped onto the wooden counter top to lean over it. Next to it was an empty mug and a brown-tinted bottle that appeared to be half full.

The silent woman began weaving her way through the small crowd toward her destination, grimacing when a drunken warrior, still in his full set of armor, bumped into her along the way. He slurred out a barely coherent sorry, and collapsed into the nearest chair as she passed. 

After she ordered something with the minuscule amount of gold she had managed to scavenge during all that excitement in Helgen, hopefully she would still have enough to pay for a room for the night. Otherwise, she'd probably have to beg the owner to let her curl up on one of chairs, however humiliating that would be.

Having finally reached the unmanned bar, the young woman hesitated, eyes sweeping around the room once more. She had no idea who the barmaid was, and would just have to wait for whoever it turned out to be to come to her, it seemed.

The man took no notice of her when she claimed the stool at the other end of the counter, leaving a comfortable vacant seat between them. Even despite her sleep-deprived and drained condition, the woman sat ramrod straight, hands clasping her knees and skin prickling with anxiety while she awaited the return of the bartender.

The sudden voice sounding on her left and clearly meant for her nearly made her jump in fright.

"Hey, you there." The man called to her, and it must have only been to her, for he spoke soft enough just so that she could hear and the rest of the room could not. The young woman felt an involuntary scowl coming on.

 _Please_ , she thought, _don't let this be another drunken fool looking to woo me with garbled and honeyed words_. She hardly had the patience for such stupidity right now. Her expression of distaste mostly hidden by her drawn up hood, the woman turned her head sideways to face the stranger.

The first thought regarding the man that passed through her tired mind was _oh, he's actually kind of handsome,_ and not completely plastered either. While his breath did faintly carry a whiff of alcohol, his complexion wasn't flushed, and his eyes were clear.

The coy smile turning up the corners of his mouth was not all that terrible either, she concluded, feeling a sense of familiarity wash over her and smooth her frazzled nerves.

It was odd.. but.. she already felt so at ease with this man, and she did not even know his name or intentions yet.

"You look like a lady who can hold her liquor," The man spoke once he had been granted her full attention, and the young woman felt he lips twitch with amusement. "You up for a friendly contest to win a staff?" He proposed with a welcoming grin, and truthfully, the woman was not feeling too opposed to the idea.

Also, whenever she heard the word 'contest' she always got so worked up.

Feeling it to be more polite to speak to him without it shrouding half of her face, the young woman lifted her hand to grasp her hood and pull it away. She regarded him with a tiny smile. "That's one hell of a way to start a conversation."

The stranger's head dipped, and his shoulders shook with subdued laughter over his cup of ale.

"Ah, yes. My apologies, miss, the name's Sam Guevenne. Now, would you be up for a friendly contest to win a staff?" He repeated his proposal with a even more charming grin, unfolding his arms to gesture to the lone bottle next to his own drink.

She shouldn't really be accepting any drinks from any stranger, no matter how charismatic they were, but the young woman couldn't muster up the will to say no.

It wasn't as if she had anything better to do, and this poor man had no idea what he was getting himself into. She _was_ a woman who could hold her liquor, and for once, she was thanking the influence of her alcoholic sister for building her tolerance to it throughout their teenage years.

Also, _free_ alcohol? She'd have to be completely daft to pass that up.

The woman hoped that her own expression wasn't as smug as she feeling, when she replied to Sam. "A drinking contest? Sure, but I should go ahead and warn you, you don't stand a chance."

"Hah! We'll see about that, this is a special brew, very strong." Sam Guevenne barked goodnaturedly, reaching for the empty mug and securing the bottle in his other hand. Tipping it, he filled the cup to the rim with the drink, and slid it across the counter top into her waiting palm.

The young woman eyed the rippling liquid, inhaling briefly through her nose to breath in the sweet scent it gave off. Hopefully this wasn't poisoned. That would be bad.

"Let's get started." Sam Guevenne said with the rim of his mug against his lips, and took a hearty gulp. The young woman could practically feel her mother telling her from a continent away what a damn fool she was, as she lifted her own to her mouth and did the same.

.

.

.

 _"Wa.. up.."_ Her entire conscious was a haze, fuzzy, blurred and leaden along with her every limb.

 _"..wak.. up."_ She could hear a distinct female voice directly above her, and faintly felt something hard and narrow prodding in between her ribs. She stirred slightly, regaining enough control of her body to twitch as the presence dug into her side again.

"That's right," The voice was much clearer now, and whoever was talking sounded very irritated. "It's time to wake up, you drunken blasphemer!" Its speaker demanded, loud and jarring in the half-awake woman's ears.

Wincing, she at last pried her stinging eyes open and stared upward to the tall stone ceiling of a temple. Her skull was pounding with each heartbeat, forcing out a quiet groan from her lips as the young woman at last reclaimed full control of her senses, and drug herself into a sitting position.

Sluggishly, her gaze shifted to her right, where the yellow blot in the corner of her vision had cleared to reveal a disgruntled priestess looming over her.

Her mouth was unbelievably dry and cottony when she found her voice. "Blasphemer..?" She drawled with a heavy tongue, blinking slowly to the angry robed woman.

The priestess scoffed, upper lip curling and hands lifting to find a resting place on each of her hips. "I see.. so you don't recall. I take it you also do not remember your fondling of the statuary, then?"

The moment the words settled in her aching head, the young woman felt a cold spike of dread spreading through her stomach. What had she _done_ last night?

Heat rose in her cheeks and she averted her eyes from the priestess.

"F-fondling?!" The young woman squeaked out in response, using her hand to awkwardly rub at her forehead. How lewd of her.

This.. this had never happened before. Usually she was the one picking her sister up off the floor while someone more responsible nagged them out the door.

The robed woman continued with without addressing the matter further, her frown softening into something that might have been a mixture between disappointment and pity. "I'm guessing you _also_ don't remember stumbling in here in the middle of the night, blathering about marriage and a goat?"

Dragging her tongue across the back of her teeth in a desperate attempt to wet her parched mouth, the young woman's expression twisted with confusion. No.. no she didn't.

"Uh..I.." She tried to explain herself, only to be cut off by the older woman.

"..So you also do not remember losing your temper and trashing the temple, yes?"

Oh Gods.. She squeezed her eyes shut, entire being burning with abashment. She was such a perfect idiot. Why had she accepted that man's challenge? Just what had been in that drink?! Her throat tightened with scorn, recalling the devilish features of Sam Guevenne.

That rat was going to pay for this... She just had to figure out where he had slithered off to.

"I'm so sorry," She gushed once her inner outrage had passed, temple pulsing with a nail of discomfort as she lifted her eyes to the rightfully angered priestess. "I don't even remember how I got here, but I promise.. I'll fix this."

The robed woman sighed in exasperation, freeing her hands to let them fall to her sides. Her frown softened. "Thank you. Once you've picked up your mess.. I may be able to help you with that little problem of how you ended up here." She then walked off, planting herself quite pointedly in a nearby chair and crossing her legs.

Sighing quietly to herself, the young woman struggled to pull herself to her feet, almost toppling completely over onto the floor when a wave of inertia caused her stomach to flip. Gods.. this was the worse hangover she'd ever experienced in her whole life.

Fighting through it, she began her work of tidying the temple up, and once she had finished she approached the priestess.

Past the rim of her hood, the older woman pierced her with a stony gaze. "..You were ranting incoherently when you got here, but I was able to pick up on a few words. You mentioned Rorikstead, so perhaps that's where you start your search."

Nodding with gratitude, the young woman stumbled toward the door, mumbling a string of dismal _sorrys_.

* * *

Somehow, someway, she had managed to reach Markarth in a single night, so the trip to the tiny village of Rorikstead through its craggy native infested mountains was a tedious and exhausting adventure.

When she arrived, the young woman did not find Sam Guevenne. She found a very pissed off cabbage farmer.

Supposedly, she had stolen the man's goat. The goat was so fondly called Gleda, the "star beauty his farm" and _apparently_ , a drunken lout had kidnapped her right from the stables in the cover of the dark and sold her to a Giant. That drunken lout had been her.

So after an entire afternoon of tracking down the missing livestock, slaying a giant, and dragging the damn animal back to its owner, she was at last granted the information needed to resume retracing her steps.

"Repay Ysolda in Whiterun"

Was what she had written on a stained scrap of paper that the farmer had dug out of his pocket and handed to her with a little more force than necessary. Actually, it was more of a messy scrawl, her usually delicate calligraphy warped and thrown all over the place by her inebriated state.

More importantly, she had no idea who this Ysolda woman was, but at least her past, _very_ drunken self had enough sense to mention the city she resided in.

Biting back a drawn-out, pitiful groan, the young woman stood in the center of the Rorikstead's central cobblestone road and threw her head back. She squinted into the bright blue sky smeared with the white wisps of clouds, and composed herself with a few deep breaths.

Still, she felt a single eyebrow twitch in suppressed fury.

That Sam Guevenne and his damn mystery drink had really handed her the torch to burn her entire reputation to the ground all in one single evening. She had only been a resident of Skyrim for not even five years, and had largely stuck to the central Winterhold area, but now her first appearances in the rest of the country were going to get her labeled as an irresponsible, intoxicated floozy.

"Greeeat." The young woman ground out to herself in the form of an elongated hiss, rocking on the heels of her feet. Brows furrowed, her flinty eyes lowered to level out with the hillsides, gazing in the direction of the city of Whiterun.

She had a lot of walking, _and_ fuming to do.

* * *

Dusk was settling in the busy streets of Whiterun, the already crimson and orange sky sparkling with the faint appearance of stars as merchants closed up their stalls for the night and workers abandoned their stations to return home.

The young woman, breathless and very much at her limit, walked aimlessly through the small throng of people, searching for any flashes of red hair. This Ysolda woman was a redhead, she had been informed by the kind lady slaving away at the blacksmiths forge near the entrance gates of the city.

She was a merchant, a jewelry one apparently, and the woman was starting to dread just what exactly needed repaying. She hoped it wasn't anything too expensive, because right now she was about as coinless as an Imperial City beggar.

After being quite rudely jostled in the hip by some child, who at the contact had just looked up at her and scoffed, a flicker of dark red attached to the figure of person ahead of her caught the woman's attention.

The redheaded lady had split off from the main street, and was disappearing around the corner of Belethor's General Goods. The young woman hoped that she did not look too intimidating, as she squeezed her way free of the crowd and pursued the person she was praying on being Ysolda.

"Ysolda?" She called through the chatter of people, nearing her target. When the redheaded woman showed no sign of hearing her, she spoke louder, nearly upon her. "Ysolda!"

Finally, the redhead halted, and looked over her shoulder. The young woman saw Ysolda's green eyes flash with recognition, as she skidded to a stop behind her.

"Oh, it's you." Ysolda greeted, turning around to fully face her.

Spent and still battling with the aftereffects of her previous night of terrible choices, the woman slumped forward with her palms clutching her legs, catching her breath but managing to tiredly get out: "Ysolda?"

The green-eyed woman nodded softly in confirmation, frowning as she did it though. "Look, I've been patient for a while now, but you still owe me, you know."

So.. she was getting right to the point then.

The young woman swallowed painfully, trepidation burning in her lungs. "Uhh, yes, about that actually," Her head still swimming with the splitting punishment left by her hangover, she uncurled herself to stand the right way. "...what do I owe you, exactly?

Ysolda sighed, eyes flickering upward and shining with regret? That was not a good sign. "It's not really about money. I wouldn't have given you the wedding ring on credit if you weren't so obviously in love."

_Wedding.. ring..? In.. love..?_

Its goes without really mentioning that if the young woman had been enjoying a refreshing drink at that moment, she would have spewed it back out into this innocent lady's face the moment those words had reached her ears. She swore she felt her heart stop, a petrified stone dropping all the way down to the bottom of her stomach.

Ysolda went on gloomily, unaware of the other woman's rapidly paling complexion and terrified expression. "..But if there isn't going to be a wedding, the least you can do is return the ring to me. It was one of my best pieces."

Her head buzzing with a maddening maelstrom of questions, the young woman swallowed again, thickly. "Ah.. whoah.." She gasped in muffled horror at first, before stringing together a series of words that actually made some sense. "..Do you know what I did with it?

The Nord woman eyed her incredulously. "Well, you left right away to present it to your fiancée. Do you not even remember where you left her?"

_Her?_

Ysolda's expression then mellowed, and she reached out to plant a hand on the young woman's shoulder, who snapped to attention. "I thought it was so brave of you, being that unafraid to show your true feelings like that.."

Our heroine was having some trouble following along with the Nord and what she was insinuating, because of the fact that each word coming from the redhead's mouth felt like verbal punches pummeling her from every direction.

Ysolda's touch fell away, disappointment overtaking her sympathetic features. "All this after you told me that sweet story of how you met in Witchmist Grove.."

The young woman tried to cut in and interrupt Ysolda, but all that came out was a distraught, strangled kind of noise.

"You said you met at the full moon, under the biggest tree in Witchmist Grove, surrounded by fireflies," The Nord sighed dreamily, face lifted to the reddening sky as if she were imagining it herself. "It was like something from a story book."

Her voice a few octaves higher than she would have preferred, the young woman spoke once Ysolda had gone silent. "D-did I happen to say where the wedding would be?"

"You told me the ceremony was going to be in Morvunskar." The redhead supplied, head tilting sideways.

Feeling strangely hollow, the young woman sucked into a quick breath, closing her eyes. "Thank you Ysolda, I'll return the ring to you once I find it." She vowed in place of a proper farewell.

Ysolda left her there, her hand waving primly goodbye, in the middle of the back road behind Belethor's General Goods quickly darkening as the sun retreated over the edge of the horizon.

She stood there for so long, staring vacantly into the distance, that night had fully fallen and the quarter moon shone luminously overhead.

Suddenly, her legs gave way and the young woman collapsed to her knees on the gravel, groaning in unbridled frustration.

* * *

Witchmist Grove did really live up to its namesake. There was mist. There were _witches_.

Well, there were Hagravens: hideous hunchbacked magic wielding bird-hags who screeched bloody murder at the mere sight of her and began flinging devastating destruction spells.

She had shattered more than enough wards until the point that _it_ came into sight. It was a tiny log cabin tucked in the deepest, most tangled part of the grove. Ivy vines and moss swathed its decaying organic structure, creating a curtain of vegetation that hung in its darkened doorway.

Spiked wooden barricades lined it, boxing the overgrown hut in protectively on all sides. A severed goat head was impaled on one, soaking the thin spear in red and filling the air with the sickening stench of death and rotting flesh.

Two flickering braziers lined the walkway leading up to the steps of the hut, only adding to the ominous shroud that hung over it like the plague. On a rectangular sign at the foot of the stairs an almost unintelligible jumble of letters were carved.

**MOIRA**

Was that the Hagraven's name? She never even knew Hagravens had names.

Her every instinct and ounce of common sense screaming at her to turn around and walk far, far away from this place, the young woman trudged out of the spindly brush and into the clearing that housed the shack of her supposed bride-to-be.

She squealed quite pathetically in fright when the resident Hagraven of the worn down home burst through the blanket of vines over its opening and began hobbling toward her.

The sight of it was enough to have the young woman taking twice as many steps backward as the creature did forward, but setting her jaw with determination, she forced herself to stay still.

Breathing heavily, her bare clawed feet producing a gross slapping sound on the rocky ground underneath, Moira spoke in her grating voice. "Darling! I've been waiting for you to return," She sounded like a dozen knives being ground all the way down the side of a brick wall, and the young woman couldn't help but flinch with every word that left her.

"..Return to consummate our love!" The witch screeched in what could have been interpreted as glee, and halted in between the two ends of her house's pointy blockade.

The young woman looked to Moira with her lips pressed together, and the corners of her eyes stinging. She felt like crying. She had married a Hagraven. Who wouldn't feel like crying?

The fact that they hadn't... _consummated_ their "love" yet was a gigantic relief, at least.

Shakily, the woman swallowed her frustration, lifted her chin a bit higher, and cleared her throat.

The presence of the Hagraven was unbearable, not counting the fact that she reeked of rot and impending doom, just _everything_ about her was awful to all five senses.

"U-um.. eh.. about that.." She tried holding contact with her supposed bride's beady, dead eyes, and failed. Her own darted all around, trying to find anywhere else to land on. "I was actually hoping to get that ring back..?" They flicked briefly toward to the witch's left hand, a pallid mess of long fingers and even longer claws. An out-of-place, impressive jeweled ring had been squeezed onto one of them.

"What?" Moira immediately bristled, the more bird-like part of her showing when her greasy black feathers puffed up. The young woman felt her body involuntarily tense, backing away from the creature when it began shrieking. "You want it for that hussy Esmerelda, don't you!?" At this point, the woman's hand was already slithering around to her waist, where a single dagger rested in the sheath attached to her belt.

 _Esmerelda? Just how many Hagravens have I been flirting with?!_ Deciding that better to go unanswered forever, the young woman tightening her fingers around the leather-bound hilt of her weapon and prepared herself.

"I won't let her have you!" The Hagraven roared as she lunged, and the young woman ducked out of the way of her swinging, spidery fingers. Unfortunately, Moira was just as quick, and with her other hand's claws she raked three tears through the young woman's shirt as she tumbled sideways and to the earth.

Luckily, it had just been a glancing blow that hurt her wardrobe more than anything else, and the woman hastily regained her footing to retaliate.

Snarling, Moira tried twisting around to dive for her again, but the young woman thrust her blade and plunged it into the Hagraven's back. Her curved spine arched, and with a ear-splitting screech, her deformed body began falling forward.

The young woman kept her hold on her dagger, and let the blade pull itself free with the help of gravity dragging the dead Moira's form down until she met the dirt with a quiet thump.

She stood over her bride's corpse, and abruptly, she felt overcome with a wave of cynical humor.

All of this back tracking was really destroying her sanity.

Once again, the woman felt herself burning with scorn over Sam Guevenne.

"When I get my hands on that bastard, I'm gonna.. _hohohoooo..._ " She chuckled darkly, feeling an unsteady, painfully forced smile stretching her lips as she bent down to wrangle Ysolda's ring off the Hagraven's gnarled appendage.

* * *

She had stepped through a swirling portal that had just appeared within the bowels of a dark mage fortress, and was deposited at a party.

The first thing, or someone, she noticed was Sam Guevenne. He stood there, in all of his impishly attractive glory, at the head of a long table filled with his guests. Overhead hung a string of pleasantly glowing lanterns, and the air was filled with the gentle thrum of a lyre and low mumble of the peoples' voices. Fireflies glimmered in lazy circles at the edges of the path, and the peculiar full moon was a soothing existence watching over the glade like a celestial guardian.

She found that she was far too exhausted to feel as angry as she would have liked to be, advancing toward the man she had been hunting for the better part of two days slowly. In fact, the entire scene flooded her with serenity.

Noticing her in his peripheral, Sam turned with a wide grin gracing his face, arms extending outward. "Oh hey! I was beginning to think you wouldn't be able to make it!" He welcomed her in a booming voice, leaving the front of the long-table to meet her halfway.

"It was quite a trip." The young woman agreed in a deadpan manner, void of all those tiring emotions. "Where are we?"

Sam went on smiling purposely at her like that. "So you don't remember your first trip here? You certainly had a big night." His chest swelled with a friendly chuckle.

Curiously, the woman dismissed Sam for a short moment to glance around. So she had been here before. _Huh._

"You seem unimpressed," Sam Guevenne's voice drug her back to the present, and the young woman returned her attention to him. One of his eyebrows were raised, and the grin on his lips was starting to morph from cordial to mischievous.

Without warning, Sam Guevenne was swallowed in a mass of dark purple light. Her utterly fatigued body responding in alarm, the young woman stumbled back a little as the vortex grew larger and larger, until falling back into itself.

She was starting to believe that her lack of sleep was making her hallucinate, because standing before her was the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, Sanguine. Atop his head were two sets of horns, one of them short, the other curling to the back of his skull like a ram's. His skin was an ashen gray, splattered with bright crimson markings.

The woman somehow hid her surprise, considering what a complete wreck she was, and regarded the Prince with a blank look.

She should really be more concerned right now.. but after all that she had been through, the woman was starting to wish that the Daedric Lord would maybe be offended and banish her to the fiery pits of Oblivion. Her will to live had been crushed the second her "bride" had crawled out of that hut back in Witchmist Grove.

"Still nothing?" Sanguine prompted dubiously, spreading his Daedric-armored hands with a chuckle.

"Aww, you're no fun.. but!" The Daedric Prince was suddenly there by her side, an arm wrapping over her shoulders and guiding her further away from the table of partygoers. The young woman let herself be ushered along without complaint. "You've more than earned that not-so-holy staff of mine that I promised you, think of it as a thank you for all that entertainment you provided me."

He released her and splayed the pointed tips of his gauntlets, where the vague shape of a staff began to materialize. Soon, a full-grown, gigantic rose appeared in Sanguine's palms, which he presented to her.

The young woman cautiously reached for the Rose, outwardly amiable, inwardly enthusiastic. She had just met a Daedric Prince, and now, she held his artifact in her very hands.

"Cool.." Was all she mumbled to the Lord of Debauchery.

Sanguine burst into laughter, slapping the middle of her back a bit harshly, before draping himself over her again. His body radiated with a sort of chilling intensity, and the young woman felt a shiver tearing down her spine, as the Daedric Prince steered her back toward the lamp-lit table.

"Come with me." Sanguine demanded in a friendly tone, but she was not given much of a choice to refuse or anything, with him being an all powerful other-worldly being.

The occupants of the long table did not even stir as she was not very gently deposited into one of the chairs, grasping the Rose tightly in her hands resting against the tops of her thighs. They went on chatting with each other in voices that sounded far too.. incoherent? Now that she was really attempting to focus on them, the young woman found that her fellow guests were uttering nothing but gibberish, at least to her ears. They were not regular people, she knew this, but still... it was unsettling.

Sanguine circled around to be on the opposite side of her, a demure smile painting his mouth, and propped his hands on his hips. "What do you say we have another party, my dear?" His black eyes seemed to study her up and down, but it was hard to tell, he had no pupils to give the action away. "You look like you need it."

For the first time since the Daedra had shown his true self, the young woman felt a twinge of insecurity. Did she?

Her chin tipped downward to look at herself. He had most certainly been referring to her haggard appearance.

Hair thin scratches covered her arms, along with a couple of small burns from the wizards she had waded through to reach the portal. Her corset was still torn from her fight with Moira and smeared with mud from chasing down that damn goat. Her hair was probably tangled with twigs and smoldering in some places. The permanent scowl that always seemed to be on her face probably did no justice for her either.

Lips parted, she tried to reply, but Sanguine moved first.

There was a crisp _pop_ , as if he had snapped his armored fingers, and she was swamped by a purple whirlpool. The young woman could do nothing but gasp, squeezing her eyes shut as the energy washed over her, and dreading what she would see when the violet waves dissipated.

When she sensed the last of Sanguine's magic evaporate, the woman tentatively pried her eyes open.

She blinked at the grinning Daedric Prince. What had he done?

The young woman tilted her head, gazing left, then right. They were still in the moonlit glade, the partygoers continuing to speak to each other in low voices around her. The table appeared to have been restocked for the supposed celebration the Lord of Debauchery had planned, overflowing with foods and bottles of wine and mead. But _she_ felt.. different.

At last, she glanced downward, and heard Sanguine chuckling above her when she gasped sharply for the second time.

She was in a dress. Horrified by the the fact that she had just been stripped and stuffed into the article of clothing by the Daedric Lord's magic, her hands flew off of the Rose, hovering just over her lap and trembling. Her cheeks were hot when she forced herself to focus on Sanguine, whose presence was nearing.

The Daedric Lord hung over the distance the table created between them, a mug of that "special" brew in his gauntlet. He thrust it toward her nearest hand, pressing the cup into the curve of her palm. She scrambled to secure it without dousing herself in alcohol, as Sanguine pulled back with an expression of satisfaction.

"Come on, Tivoli, just one more round." The Lord of Debauchery tempted her with a wink, raising his own glass.

The woman looked at him strangely for the use of her first name, before peering down into her drink and recalling quite clearly just what kind of trouble it had gotten her into in the past.

Regardless, her shoulders jerked with a shrug. "What the hell.." She muttered beneath her breath, drawing its rim to her lips and throwing her head back to take a large swig.

* * *

"..and that's the end of it." The Dragonborn finished with a sigh, lowering her hands. She must not have been aware of it, but she was very vocal with them, swinging them about and gesturing during her entire story. Serana, as with almost every peculiar aspect of her personality, found it very entertaining.

The vampire quirked a brow, smiling at the the woman. "Wow."

Her companion nodded solemnly, suddenly looking very jaded. "Yes.. it definitely was a night to remember.." Serana watched her head then shake dismally side to side, teeth clenched. "I married a _Hagraven_." She spoke in a shuddering voice, closing her eyes.

Serana's chin lifted, throwing her hand upward to hover over her mouth as she laughed, genuinely laughed at the woman's expense. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry that didn't work out for you. You seemed like such a good match." She purred mockingly, throwing a sly look her companion's way when the Dragonborn opened her eyes to glare half-heartedly back at her.

The expression of irritation did not last long, the Dragonborn's lips pursing and face brightening as if struck with a thought.

"Oh, after all of this story-telling this had completely slipped my mind," She muttered, and Serana's own expression smoothed out to observe curiously as the woman twisted to her right to scoop up the dagger she had set down earlier.

Unable to stand, due to Sanguine's Rose still balancing on the tops of her thighs, the Dragonborn laid the small weapon out horizontally over her two palms, and presented it to Serana.

Unsure whether the woman wished for her to take it or not, the vampire didn't rise from her seat, she only leaned closer to study the dagger in more detail.

It appeared to made of some sort of dark metal.. ebony most likely, its short blade decorated with flowing swirls of silver contrasting against the soot-like material. The hilt was bound tightly with leather, hugging the grooves of its handle with two tiny tassels hanging from its end.

"It's beautiful," The vampire praised, eyes flickering to the woman's face for some sign of what she wanted her to do. "What's it for?" Was the Dragonborn trying to.. offer this dagger to her? Was this a gift? If so, the gesture was already warming every inch of Serana's dead heart, and she was trying her damnedest not to grin.

"It's for you." She confirmed Serana's prediction with a lovely curve in the corners of her mouth, stretching her arms further.

"Oh," Serana gasped sharply, reaching for the dagger and taking it from the Dragonborn's offering palms. "Thank you." She spoke breathlessly, showing her delight by directing an honest smile at the woman.

The Dragonborn's eyes darted off to some point in the room, adorably bashful, while her fingers brushed over her cheek. "Y-you're welcome." She mumbled, then shook with faint, nervous laughter.

Serana wanted to throw herself at the other woman and kiss her. Oh, she _wanted_ to, but she didn't. Another time, the vampire reasoned with herself, as she lowered her eyes back to the dagger in her hands.

_Another time._


	21. Unseen Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After discovering that Dexion has become blind, Serana and I have had to secure alternate means to decipher the Elder Scrolls and locate Auriel's Bow. It's been suggested that I might be able to read the Elder Scrolls myself if I use an ancient technique performed by the original Moth Priests. We're now on our way to a place known as the Ancestor's Glade to discover the origin of the mysterious ritual._

Isran sat a small table in the corner of his study, nursing a lukewarm cup of ale while the dimming flames in his fireplace crackled in front of him.

He held his drink with little interest, taking only a small sip before sighing heavily.

It had been weeks since that girl had stormed out of Fort Dawnguard with that damn vampire trailing her like a lost puppy, and it had been weeks since any of them had seen any sight of her at all.

She was most likely dead... or worse, turned by that succubus. These were his immediate thoughts the moment he was given time to think and rest after a day of recruiting and training, but...

Isran did not really believe that.

That girl, Lielle...

Huffing to himself, the Redguard lifted his drink to his mouth to take another gulp.

He was no old fool, that wasn't her actual name. Whenever someone used it, she hesitated, as if unsure whether they were referring to her or not.

Isran didn't care who she really was, as long as her loyalties were to the Dawnguard. Perhaps she was trying to forget something, to leave her old self behind, and he had no problem with that. Everyone had something they wanted to forget.

Whoever she was, she was smart, she was a survivor, that much Isran could tell after the short amount of time they had known each other. She was real spitfire, and regardless of their differences, Isran respected her. He may have had nearly thirty years on her, but that girl's eyes shone with a thousand more of experience and hardship.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone's approach, boots thudding on the dusty stone floor.

Exhaling again, Isran straightened his back out of the position he was currently in, hunched over his cup, and he faced the person now casting a shadow in his doorway.

It was Celann, his posture rigid and lips pressed tightly together. The cheeky smile that had become so accustomed to the Breton man was nowhere to be found.

"Isran?" He spoke, sounding uncharacteristically grim.

Inwardly, Isran was a little shaken. He was certain he would hear the commotion if they were being invaded, so that was not it. Had someone been killed?

"What is it?" He grunted dully without revealing these worries.

"Our scouts have just reported back in." Celann retorted with a flat voice, his expression strangely... empty.

Despite the melancholy vibe the Breton was giving off, Isran felt no sympathy, only a spike of irritation for how vague he was deciding to be.

"By the Gods, man!" Isran growled, banging his mug onto the top of the wooden table. Some ale splattered onto it and his gauntlet, but he was a little too drunken and tired to care. "Just say what's got your smallclothes in a such a twist, already!"

"They saw her," Celann replied at last, and Isran felt himself pale, immediately knowing exactly who he was referring to. A thousand questions were on the tip of his tongue:

_Where was she? Was she unharmed? What was she doing?_

But they were thrown to the void when the Breton added: "With that female vampire..."

The Redguard's lip instantly curled at the mention of the vampire, and his disgust and fury only deepened the longer he listened to Celann.

The other man's gaze was downcast, and his voice bitter. "She's one of them now, a  _vampire_." He spat the last word out like a curse.

Overcome in a blinding wave of rage, Isran barely felt himself shoot out of his own chair and use his arms to sweep across the tabletop, violently throwing every plate, cup, and candle holder to the floor. He heard himself growling, growling like a rabid cave bear, and he felt his teeth grinding painfully, creaking in his skull.

 _Impossible._  Despite her uncontrollable temper and flighty behavior, he knew that girl had a good, solid head on her shoulders. There was no way she had been turned willingly. That damn female vampire must have betrayed her trust and gotten her, just as Isran had feared.

She was still one of them, still Dawnguard, just... corrupted. They could fix her. Isran  _would_  fix her.

His chest still heaving with the effort he spent on trashing his own quarters, Isran freed himself from his anger and cleared his mind. When this had been done, he lifted his narrowed eyes, finding Celann in the same spot he had left him. The Breton hadn't moved at all.

"Bring her back. Kill the other one.. that.." His face twisting into a scowl, Isran retrieved the name had heard the girl call that monster from the back of his mind. "Serana."

Celann only nodded once, a fiercely determined expression on his face, and he disappeared back out of the door without another word.

Once he had left, Isran sank clumsily back into his chair, making its legs squeak underneath his weight.

* * *

When Serana forced herself to squeeze into the pitch black entrance of yet another hole in the side of a mountain, she was not expecting such a pleasant sight on the inside.

At first the fabled Ancestor's Glade had been nothing much to blink at: a wide cavern with natural bridges and formations swathed in flora and greenery, gentle yellow sunlight pouring downward from cracks in the stone ceiling.

Serana had scoffed at the first impression of it, though secretly relieved it wasn't as terrible as most tightly cramped, mold-dripping caves were, proclaiming that  _"If this ends up being a wasted trip, that Dexion and I are going to have a few choice words when we get back"._ No matter if the man was blind as a bat now, if this turned out to be a waste of their time, Serana was not going to take it lightly.

She followed the silent Dragonborn's lead, balancing over a fallen tree trunk acting as a walkway from the elevated dirt ledges covered in bushes and grass, then down an uncomfortably small tunnel shining with a soft bluish glow at its end.

Serana's doubts were firmly put to rest once she laid eyes upon the  _real_  Ancestor's Glade.

The top of the grotto felt as if it stretched for miles, so tall that its true end was clouded in a thin veil of mist. The air was fresher than one would expect to be breathing in underground, and it carried the overwhelmingly sweet mingled scents of flowers and tree sap. Firs lined any available space growing on the rocky ridges of the cavern, with various small waterfalls tumbling over slicked surfaces to pool into the pond nestled in a corner of the glade, creating a lovely tinkling ambiance.

A large beam of light shimmered at its center, and timidly venturing further from the door, Serana tilted her head back to follow its path as it went upward. She could faintly detect the golden shine of what she assumed to be the sun lending its warmth to softly illuminate the Glade from far above.

It was.. incredible. It was hard to explain but.. Ancestor's Glade felt as if it harbored the very essence of nature itself.

"Wow.." The vampire couldn't stop herself from uttering in dismay, her gaze falling to take another sweep over the thriving environment. There must not have been a place just like this in all of Skyrim.

With an acknowledging  _hmm_ , the Dragonborn padded even farther past the pure-blooded vampire's point standing in the middle of an overgrown dirt path, stopping at the drop-off of their elevated position to survey the bottom of the glade's basin.

"This place is beautiful." She agreed.

Serana moved to join her, though halted with shivers began erupting down her pallid skin as a fluttering presence was felt just slightly across the shell of her ear. Jerking, her keen red eyes scanned the surroundings for the touch's source, and received her answer with the arrival of a couple of large butterfly-looking insects gathering around a small fir tree to her left.

"Oh," The Dragonborn quipped, drawing the vampire's attention from the bugs to her. "Those must be the Ancestor Moths Dexion told us about."

 _Right_ , Serana's eyes narrowed, trying to absorb the details of the creatures as they flittered about erratically. The moths' wings were a luminescent off-white dotted with grey splotches, and their bodies were thick, giving off a sort of fuzzy appearance.

The Dragonborn moved in a blur as she reached out for something without warning, and Serana being captured by the sudden movement, whipped back in the woman's direction to see her bringing her cupped hands toward her chest.

 _Really..?_  One of Serana's brows raised in question, lips pursing. "Did you just.. snatch one of those poor things right out of the air?" She spoke with a decent amount of amusement at the sight of the Dragonborn smiling back at her with a very satisfied expression.

She drew her captured prize closer, looking down into the gap between her thumbs where a very frantic fluttering could be heard. A pleasant feeling pooled into the pit the vampire's chest at the delightful, low chuckle that tumbled free of the Dragonborn.

"Yup. I can't believe I got it," She replied with an unusual giddiness, unlocking her intertwined fingers to set the terrified moth free. "I was fast before, but this is ridiculous."

Both of them tracked the newly freed winged insect as it scrambled as far away as it could, Serana's mouth curled into an uncontrollable smirk.

"Try not to scare off too many of them, we need those things for the ritual, you know." She reminded the Dragonborn, eyes still able to detect the darting movement of the Ancestor Moth, now halfway across the Glade by now.

"Hmph," Her companion huffed beside her, rustling the wisps of grasses around her feet as she abandoned her perch at the ridge to head toward the barely visible stone steps protruding from the ground. "I didn't hurt it." She insisted, Serana falling in step with her down the nearly hidden path sloping from the hill, lined in random places by miniature weathered weystones stuck in the dirt.

"Besides, there are hundreds more." The Dragonborn gestured with her splayed hands to the clusters of Ancestor Moths lazily fluttering all around in various places, kicking up a few loose pebbles with her feet that bounced ahead of them under the pull of gravity.

They ducked beneath a slab of rock hanging over the worn pathway and continued to level ground, where small springs sprouted up, steam curling from their churning surfaces and surrounding the center of the glade. A single pink-blossomed tree stood on its own circular piece of earth and stone, shedding loose brightly colored petals that floated gently downward and floated on the surface of the bubbling water.

It splashed beneath her boots as the Dragonborn stepped off the cobblestone, wading through the inch-deep level of crystalline liquid toward the lone tree. An array of ripples disturbed the still surface in her wake, tailing her as she climbed the soaked slabs of stone to rest her palm against its smooth bark.

Serana followed, gazing in wonderment at the magnificent blossom-bearing tree, briefly inhaling through her nose to catch any scent it gave off. Sweet, obviously, it wasn't a smell she was familiar with, however. What had the Moth Priest called it.. a Canticle Tree? Was this tree the only of its kind in all of Skyrim, too?

"So, that must be the Priest's knife." The Dragonborn spoke, and Serana turned in her direction to see her pointing to the peculiarly shaped pedestal ahead of them. On it rested a circular-carved stone, and in its opening there was an ancient looking blade with two handles.

Serana nodded, standing within the twisted shadow cast by the Canticle Tree. For some odd reason, the glare of the sunlight here did not bother her as much as it did normally, and she wasn't complaining about that. "Looks like it."

The Dragonborn stepped up to the pedestal, wrapping her fingers around the two chipped wooden handles. A healthy layer of dust sifting loose with the movement, she lifted it from its resting place and approached the tree.

"Hopefully the moths like this bark as much as Dexion said they would." Serana huffed, watching as the Dragonborn sunk the edge of the horizontal blade into the tree, and jerked it downward. A naked, pinkish spot oozing with amber colored sap was left in the tough hide of the tree as the woman ripped the strip of Canticle bark loose.

In one hand she held the handle of the ceremonial knife, and the other she used to lift the bark closer to her nose. She inhaled, and Serana nearly snickered at the split-second expression of disgust she made. "Ugh.. they better. This thing is giving off one hell of a stench."

The Dragonborn returned the Priest's knife to its previous position in the hollow of the stone pedestal, and holding the bark slightly out in front of her, she neared the closest swarm of Ancestor Moths circling lazily in the brilliant beam of light shining from the top of the Glade. Serana followed.

Instantly attracted by the presence of the bark, the swarm of insects left the beam and began fluttering around the woman instead.

It was an amusing sight, the Dragonborn flinching slightly each time a moth came too close to her face, visibly resisting the urge to swat them away.

Serana chuckled softly, observing as the Dragonborn waved the Canticle bark around and the moths trailed it hungrily. "It looks like they've really taking a liking to you." And perhaps she was beginning to see things, but.. it also appeared as if the woman were.. glimmering.

"Ah, they're..  _pfft-_ " Her attempted response was interrupted when one of the Moth's wings brushed right into her lips, causing her to sputter with a look of irritation flashing in her red eyes. Quickly swiping the back of her gauntlet over her mouth, the Dragonborn stretched her other arm further away from herself.

"Dammit, let's just get this over with." She muttered, leaving an arm-length of distance between herself and the strip of bark as she stalked off toward the stone staircase they had descended to reach the basin.

Shaking with well-deserved, subdued laughter, Serana went after her.

They ventured in a near full circle around Ancestor's Glade, slipping between tiny ravines, climbing the grass-covered slopes, and scaling the slippery granite ridges to pass behind the small waterfall tumbling free from the cavern wall, gathering any moth that could be found.

By the time they were finished, a beautiful shimmering sphere of energy was rippling around the Dragonborn along with the flock of Ancestor Moths. In truth, the intense glow was becoming a bit uncomfortable to look at to the Volkihar vampire.

"I think you've gotten enough of them," Serana said, squinting as she struggled to keep facing in the woman's direction. "Let's head back down to see if you can start reading it." The collective energy swirling around the Dragonborn gave off a very soothing warmth, but at the same time its touch was alien and unsettling.

Serana could only imagine what the woman herself was experiencing, being right in the heart of it.

The Dragonborn glanced down at herself, eyeing the golden glimmer that had settled around her body. "This is.. wow." Was all she murmured in reply, before gliding down the stone stairs once again and wading into the springs toward the Canticle Tree.

She entered the massive beam of light, only adding to the severity of its shine. Serana felt the corners of her eyes welling with wetness, as she watched the Dragonborn open one palm to the blinding glow, her other hand outstretched toward the other vampire.

"Serana, the Scroll?" Her companion gestured with her chin to her.

The pure-blooded vampire instantly reached for the strap over her shoulder, where the original Elder Scroll had been replaced by Valerica's. "Right." She responded, pulling the artifact free and placing it in the woman's grasp.

The Dragonborn's eyes shifted to meet with Serana's, drawing the Scroll to her chest and preparing to unravel it. She flashed a fleeting, half-smirk at the other woman. "Hopefully this won't blind me."

Serana's own smile was thin with concern, pupils stinging due to the excessive glow shrouding the woman. "Come on, don't even joke about that."

Her friend only huffed, before turning to the Scroll that she now held before her. "It might be better if you look away. This could be dangerous." Without giving the pure-blooded vampire enough time to reply, she began unfurling the ancient scroll, and hastily Serana averted her gaze as the Dragonborn had suggested.

There was an extraordinary pulse of energy, so powerful that Serana felt herself sway slightly on her feet as chills rushed along her spine. She did keep her eyes screwed shut, but stumbled back a couple feet, her senses clouded by static. Then it dissipated, and unable to stop herself, she looked.

The Dragonborn stood in the very same position she had been only moments before, rigid, the unfurled Elder Scroll secured tightly in her hands, and red eyes wide and slightly clouded. The Ancestor Moths continued to idly circle her as she remained motionless, lips slightly parted.

"You alright..?" Serana inched toward the woman, her voice thick with worry.

Her dead heart jumped, when the woman suddenly began sinking sideways. The vampire's body acted on instinct, a sharp gasp escaping her while she lurched forward to wrap her arms around the collapsing Dragonborn. The Elder Scroll slipped from the paralyzed woman's fingers, crashing into the puddle beneath them with a splash.

The legendary artifact was hardly as high on Serana's list of priorities as the woman, who she pulled protectively toward her chest as the both of them lowered to the water.

One palm cradling the space between her shoulder blades, Serana bent forward and tapped the back of her free hand against the unresponsive woman's cheek.

It was delayed, but she reacted. The Dragonborn blinked languidly several times up at Serana, before clarity filled her expression.

The pure-blooded vampire let out a breath of relief. "Are you okay?"

"..Yea. I'm.. good." The woman responded brokenly, glancing back and forth confusedly as she became aware of her position. She began to pull herself upright, and Serana leaned backward to give her room, allowing her hands to fall away. Her eyes were a thousand miles away when she spoke again. "It worked. I know where Auriel's Bow is."

Though she was overjoyed that the ceremony had actually succeeded and the Dragonborn hadn't had her vision fried, Serana's attention darted guiltily toward the fallen Elder Scroll. The parchment was entirely soaked through at this point, sprawled out in the shallow pool of water.

Timidly she reached for it, fingers slipping over its golden sleeve until she managed to find a foothold on the dripping metal. "Oh. Really? Where is it?" The vampire grimaced as she cupped the other end of the Scroll and watched large drops of water fall from it.

Thankfully, the Dragonborn was too dazed at the moment to notice what had happened. She cupped her forehead, closing her eyes. "It's in a place called Darkfall Cave.. the Scroll  _burned_  a map inside my head."

Shrugging off the container for the Scroll, Serana tossed another concerned look at the woman. "Are you sure you're alright? Not feeling.. blind, are you?" She fretted as the rolled the artifact back up and secured it in the holder.

It at least earned a weak chuckle from the Dragonborn, who lowered her hand from her head to be able to see the other vampire. "No, Serana, I believe I would notice even if I was feeling a  _little_  blind."

After slinging the strap back across her shoulder, the pure-blooded vampire rose from her kneel, and with a smile she offered a hand to the woman. "Just making sure. We should get going.. before Harkon has a chance to catch up to us."

The Dragonborn offered a small sound of agreement, wincing slightly as she was helped to her feet. Not a second later, her entire body stiffened, and Serana's did as well. "I think.. someone already has."

Sighing, the pure-blooded vampire lifted her gaze to the rocky ledge they had trudged down to reach the heart of Ancestor's Glade. Sure enough, a few vague silhouettes could be seen lurking in between the cluster of firs and bushes.

But.. they didn't smell like Volkihar vampires.

Serana was only allowed a mere second of confusion, before there was a faraway metallic click, and she flinched as she felt a projectile whistle straight past her head. It found its mark at the Dragonborn's feet, who jumped slightly sideways with a sharp gasp.

Serana eyed the bolt that had lodged itself into the stone through the clear pool of water. Only one weapon used those kind of tiny little spearheads, the Dragonborn had called it a crossbow, and they were exclusively wielded by the Dawnguard.

"What..?" The rattled woman beside her breathed at first, then her head snapped back in the direction that the assault had come from. "No.. no.. no way." Serana had never seen the woman so shaken, not even in the depths of Volkihar's dungeons.

The Dragonborn whispered a single  _Isran_  harshly beneath her breath behind Serana as the distant group hurriedly began approaching the pathway that sloped downward into the Glade.

_Those bastards. Are they really doing this? What was all that, "You're one of us" talk?_

Serana's eyes narrowed up at the gathering of vampire-hunters, stepping right in front of the Dragonborn to shield her from any other shots.

Her attempt to protect the other woman was rewarded with another click, and Serana felt an intense stab of pain in her upper arm. The force of the shot so great that she stumbled backward, into the Dragonborn, hissing when the area immediately began to burn like nothing she had ever experienced before.

While Serana didn't make it a habit to catch arrows or crossbow bolts with her body, she was certain that it was  _not_  supposed to feel like this, like fire had been injected right into her veins.

She grasped the feathered end of the bolt, feeling the Dragonborn's arms around her.

The arrowhead of the bolt must have been made of silver, and that sacred metal was scorching her tainted blood.

" _Dammit_." Serana growled, gritting her teeth as she began to tug, a stream of red pooling out around the bolt and staining the sleeve of her armor. She didn't care whether those bastards had been the Dragonborn's allies once, she was going to rip them to shreds for this.

The Dragonborn's hand suddenly wrapped over her own, stopping her from yanking the intruding crossbow bolt free.

"Serana, let me hold you." The woman requested, and the vampire twisted sideways to look over her shoulder in bewilderment.

"Wha-" She wasn't really given much time to protest, because the woman suddenly swept her right off her feet, and not in the most romantic sort of way. The Dragonborn was then sprinting, straight toward the walkway, and right to the Dawnguard.

Serana clung to the woman with one arm, the other hand clutching herself around the end of the bolt. Her bicep continued to burn, the rapid movement the Dragonborn took  _toward_  the group of vampire-hunters only making the pain worse. "What the hell are you doin-AGGH!"

The vampire's question ended a little gracelessly with a yelp, as the entire world lurched beneath she and Dragonborn. " _Wuld Nah Kest_!" The woman Shouted, and unable to bear the sheer bite of the swirling winds cloaking them, Serana squeezed her eyes shut.

Barely, the pure-blooded vampire hear the cries of the Dawnguard, the rush of power tearing through their ranks as the two of them sped past.

Abruptly, the pressure lifted, and gasping, Serana looked. They were at the mouth of the cave, the frigid tundra wind howling and whipping their hair. The blanketed, tree-littered mountainside was before them, the sky softening into a red as the sun retreated over the horizon.

Gently, the Dragonborn deposited Serana into the snow feet-first. She untangled herself from the woman, throwing a glance back at the entrance of the cavern where the echoing, angry voices of the Dawnguard could be heard further in.

"Serana?" The Dragonborn worried beside her, but the vampire did not hear her.

Groaning to herself, Serana closed her now bloodied fingers back around the butt of the crossbow bolt. Blood slithered downward, dripping off her now soaked sleeve and staining the crisp blanket of snow beneath them with tiny drops of red.

She was becoming a little dizzy, and this burning was unbearable. It had set her muscles on fire, every movement spiking pain through her every nerve.

"Serana!" The Dragonborn gasped breathlessly again, and this time the Volkihar heiress heard her, because her fingers had closed around her forearm, and urged her forward.

In a haze, Serana allowed herself to be led down the slippery hillside, the Dragonborn clutching her firmly. When they had finally reached the foot of the slope after weaving through the scattered, skinny fir trees, a shout was heard at the mouth of the cave they had just fled:

"Lielle!" The voice was angry, unfamiliar to Serana, but she thought she saw the Dragonborn's shoulders tremble when it reached her ears.

"C-come on, Serana," The woman stuttered slightly, dragging Serana downward with her behind a snow-peppered ridge.

Heavily, the vampire fell to the snow on her backside, the Dragonborn crouching in front of her with a decidedly wretched expression on her face. She almost appeared as hurt as Serana felt right now.

The woman's fingers rested over Serana's once again, holding the end of the bolt with her. Finding her rare touch comforting, Serana lifted her half-lidded eyes to the Dragonborn's. This was going to be painful.

"Ready?" Was all the woman asked of her, and Serana nodded.

It was done and over with very quickly after Serana let her hands fall away, and the Dragonborn wrenched the crossbow bolt from her arm as easily as plucking a Snowberry from its bush.

The vampire gasped sharply, muffling it by gritting her teeth and pressing her lips together. She could still hear those damn mortals at the top of the hillside, at the mouth of the Glade, shouting at each other, and didn't wish to give their position away by screaming curses at the top of her lungs.

"Hang in there, Serana," She heard the Dragonborn whispering to her, and she felt pressure being applied to her still-gushing wound, a feeling not too unlike the moment they shared at the doorstep of the Soul Cairn.

Her mind clouded by the pain, Serana hardly realized that she had been pulled to her feet once again, and was trailing after the Dragonborn in the direction of Falkreath, their hands intertwined.


	22. Touching the Sky Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The vision provided by the Elder Scrolls seems to indicate that Auriel's Bow may be located in a place known as Darkfall Cave. Serana and I should proceed there as soon as we're prepared if we wish to recover the bow and stop Harkon from completing the Tyranny of the Sun._

The Dragonborn trailed her bare palm against the stone walls of Darkfall Cave as she padded into its depths, collecting its icy condensation on her skin as she ventured into the darkness.

It was more of a force of habit, really. She was not yet accustomed to plunging into a pitch-black cavern, and _not_ having to bring a torch along with her to prevent stumbling around blindly in the shadows.

She was.. different now. Yes, different. Dead. She was a vampire, and vampires thrived in the dark.

Brows furrowing, the Dragonborn reclaimed her outstretched hand to her side to avoid the lone torch burning in its holder mounted to the wall. Her thoughts flickered to her companion, who followed her quite closely through the spacious tunnel.

She felt a twitch in the corner of her mouth. Serana, a vampire afraid of cramped spaces. There was just something so strangely.. comforting about that fact; that even being what she was, Serana still felt so incredibly human, from her saccharine smile to her passionate heart brimming with good intentions.

Serana was a kind person... despite the fact that her source of sustenance was human beings. The Dragonborn was glad that she had met her. She was glad that Serana had saved her, even if in the process... she had become a vampire herself.

The Dragonborn peered down at her own splayed palm held in front of her, pale and covered in crystalline liquid from touching the cavern wall. She could make out every detail, every crease, every callous, even in the inky blackness of the cavern.

Many people _and_ Dragons had died by her very hands, so she could hardly have been considered a saint before.. well..

 _According to the Dawnguard you're the worst of the worst, now._ Her conscious abruptly echoed, though the woman's thoughts were soon interrupted by the approaching gurgle of a waterfall.

Serana acted as her second shadow, the two of them entering a wider pocket in the tunnel, where a stream of white water poured downward from the rocky ceiling and into a creek cutting through the cavern floor.

They pressed close to the moss-covered wall of the cave, and tread across the earth-made bridge providing passage over the water.

The pathway was then a couple of winding twists and turns that gradually led them further and further underground, the tinkling of a nearby underground river filling the silence between the two women.

The atmosphere had been strangely somber on the both of them since Ancestor's Glade, but the Dragonborn was suspecting that it was mostly her unconscious doing. Perhaps she was being a little more chilly to her companion than usual..

Her mood was an all-time low at the moment, and she couldn't help but project those feelings in her every movement. Betrayal was a truly stinging experience, yet she couldn't bring herself to be as furious with the Dawnguard as warranted. She _was_ a vampire now, and her previous allies _were_ vampire-slayers.

The Dragonborn sighed, lifting her fingers to tug restlessly at one of her earrings, an old anxious habit that she just could not seem to kick.

Gravelly dirt crunched beneath her feet as she carefully moved down a slope in the cave's floor, the opening ahead lighted by another torch. Past its glow, was a cluster of white material that looked suspiciously like a giant spider web.

She hesitated at the foot of the drop-off, and held out an arm to the vampire at her back. Serana was quiet, and seemingly received the message because she stayed in place as the Dragonborn advanced with a hand on the hilt of her newly acquired silver sword.

Sure enough, a Frostbite Spider as big as a medium-sized dog came scampering out of the mess of spider threads with a hiss, and the Dragonborn grimaced as she stepped backward from its nest.

Ugh, _spiders_. The gigantic arachnid was made quick work of by a single stab of her blade through its middle, and it collapsed in a lanky mess of legs to the ground.

Sheathing her weapon, the Dragonborn stole a glance over her shoulder at Serana.

Red eyes, a color the Dragonborn found most suited the regal vampire, looked to her with a certain dullness that was concerning to say the least. Serana and her bleeding heart...

The Dragonborn offered the vampire a small smile in hopes of consoling her. It wouldn't satisfy her for long, she knew, but she hated how her own mood always reflected on the other woman. They were on a quest that would most likely lead to them murdering her father. Serana didn't need anymore negativity.

Much to her delight, the vampire's expression brightened, and she was encouraged to make an attempt at lifting the mood.

"Well, ladies first." She offered, gesturing with both hands to the tunnel on the vampire's left.

Serana's chin rose slightly in that haughty way of hers, the look that had unknowingly earned the Volkihar heiress her hated nickname of "Princess" in the Dragonborn's mind, lips painted nicely with a smile of her own.

"Oh, and they say chivalry is dead." She purred in a melodramatic display of thanks, gliding ahead into the tunnel.

Chuckling softly beneath her breath, the Dragonborn fell into step behind her. The tunnel was too narrow to actually trudge alongside Serana in the suffocating darkness, and didn't make conversation any less awkward, but the Dragonborn tried again anyway.

"Serana.." She started, and watched as the Volkihar vampire's shoulders tensed. "I just want to let you know that you don't have to worry about me. I'm just fine." Her friend's body language relaxed with that, slowing her stride as the next opening in the tunnel approached.

The Dragonborn gazed past her shoulder as she awaited a reply, able to see the beginnings of a water-slicked wooden bridge hung over a gap in the cave floor.

"That's.. good to hear," The Dragonborn returned her attention to Serana as she began speaking in a soft voice. "I just can't help it, you know?"

On the other side of the ravine was a brazier, lighting the surroundings with an orange hue. The Dragonborn's brows drew together in confusion, seeing with her newly acquired night vision that there didn't seem to be another tunnel to go through at the end of the bridge.

Remembering her manners though, the small problem was forgotten as she continued toward the walkway with her companion.

Their weight made the flimsy wooden bridge creak dangerously, moving across its water-sprayed surface, still not wide enough that the Dragonborn could look into Serana's face with the grateful smile she flashed.

"Thank y-"Her words of thanks didn't even make their way past her lips when the decayed wood finally reached its limit, splintering into rotted pieces right beneath their feet.

The Dragonborn's arms flailed as she felt the world crumble, letting out a startled gasp as she watched the frigid, violently churning whirlpool below coming closer and closer and felt the air bite harshly at her skin.

Somewhere on her right, she heard Serana's own shout of alarm, before she slammed into the surface of the water with enough force to blast every ounce of oxygen she had in her lungs right back out.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the air bubbles slip from her mouth and into the unforgiving current that seized her and began dragging her along.

Her chest burning with the effort of not taking that reflexive breath, the Dragonborn pulled her shattered wits together and tried to tuck into herself as the water snatched her downstream.

She felt herself being jerked sideways by the rushing current, and suddenly an intense pain exploded in the left side of her torso. In her daze, the submerged woman felt herself flinch, more bubbles erupting from her nose as she was twisted by the body of water through a curve in the cavern.

The intense ride got even worse, when the water suddenly dumped her over a drop-off in the tunnel, and the Dragonborn went crashing into a lower level of the river, a much shallower one.

More discomfort blossomed in one of her calves, then her arms which she held protectively around her skull, before at last the water became sunken enough that she could break its surface.

The Dragonborn sucked in a greedy mouthful of air, feeling the rocky shore of the stream come in contact with her back, and bring her to a stop. Stiffly, she gathered her aching arms at her chest and pressed her palms into the soaked ground to lift herself partially from the water.

The pull of the current was much weaker now, tugging feebly at her lower half as the Dragonborn held herself upright shakily, heaving and spitting aside the river water that had managed to make it into her lungs.

Her voice quivering with a mixture of the pain and the cold, she called out desperately into the cavern when she regained enough energy to speak: "Serana?"

"I'm-" Her companion's reply was interrupted by a wet cough. "I'm alright." Serana sighed somewhere further downstream from the woman.

 _Oh, thank goodness._ The Dragonborn breathed in relief internally, her elbows digging into the sandy banks of the underground stream while she waited for the misery of her battered body to numb. Drops of water dripped from her nose and the utterly soaked locks of hair hanging downward from her face, splattering into the already sodden dirt before her.

Faintly, she registered Serana's sounds of movement, a quiet, distressed groan, the splash of water, and crunching gravel. Her companion's voice was a lot nearer than it had been before, when the vampire spoke again.

"That really hurt." Serana complained still a little ways from the edge of the shore, where the Dragonborn continued to stay hunched over halfway in the underground stream.

 _Yes. Yes it did._ Being beat around by a river and its rocks hadn't exactly been what the woman was expecting when she decided to venture into this cave.

Her chest filling with an amused huff, the Dragonborn carefully began to rise, sliding her waterlogged legs forward into the sand to prop herself up. She was absolutely certain that she had acquired a new collection of bruises from that whole mess, as she tenderly straightened her body out to lift her head and search for her companion.

The grotto that they had been unceremoniously dumped into by the river was small, most of its rocky walls covered in mushrooms that illuminated the shadows with a peculiar blue color.

Serana was easy to spot, with her red eyes glowing like two sparkling stars in the darkness, leaned up against a stone pillar that stretched all the way to the roof of the cavern. She was breathing a little heavier than normal, not that she really ever bothered to, and was cradling her forehead in one dripping palm.

"Oh," The Dragonborn gasped sharply in worry, wincing when she climbed to her feet. "Something wrong?" She called to the other vampire, taking an experimental step that punished her with a flare of pain in her hurt leg.

The visible part of Serana's lips curled upward, nodding before she replied. "No, no, I'm just.. a little rattled."

The Dragonborn limped toward her, watching as she lowered her hand to reveal her completely unharmed, pale skin.

Her concern put to rest by the prospect, the Dragonborn heavily planted herself beside her companion with a sigh.

"Well, at least we're alive." She offered to Serana while rigidly bringing her hands to her head to gather her sopping wet hair together, and squeeze the liquid from it.

"Yes," Serana agreed jadedly, watching her with a bead of river water slipping off the tip of her nose. "..but if we stay like this for too long we'll be frozen."

While it didn't really make much sense to the Dragonborn, she would have to agree on that. She could already feel her joints locking up, and a harsher, more empty coldness spreading throughout her already dead body. Was it even possible for a corpse to develop hypothermia? She did not want to find out.

Fortunately, she could prevent the two of them from becoming a couple of pretty-faced icicles.

Pressing her palms into the stone floor beneath them, the Dragonborn shifted herself closer to the pure-blooded vampire, close enough that their shoulders touched. Serana threw her a curious look with those beautiful red eyes of hers, but didn't speak or attempt to pull away.

The Dragonborn positioned her raised left hand directly over Serana's lap, and with a flick of her wrist, ignited a flame at its center. The Volkihar vampire started slightly, before sinking back into the cavern wall she had been using as support.

"Ah, so you're my own personal campfire now?" Serana quipped with a soft, tired smile, leaning fully into the Dragonborn to hover over the warmth-giving flame.

The weight was comforting, the Dragonborn thought, flexing her fingers to cause the fire she held in her hand to flare. A gentle curve at the edge of her mouth, she huffed teasingly at the other woman: "I am whatever your pretty little heart desires, _Princess_."

The Dragonborn caught the flash of irritation on her companion's face, before the pure-blooded vampire let her head fall upon her shoulder and considerably block any further view of her expression.

"You should be careful what you say," Serana hummed in reply, sounding decently amused, before her tone grew higher in annoyance. "And you know I despise that nickname."

 _That's why I used it_ , the Dragonborn thought to herself, shaking her head side to side silently. It was always just so entertaining getting a rise out of Serana, and she had needled her countless times before, so the Dragonborn liked to think of this as some form of karma.

She heard a heavy exhale from Serana and felt the pure-blooded vampire fidget next to her to get into a more comfortable position.

"Try to get some rest if you can," The Dragonborn suggested, eyes flickering downward to her palm where she willed the flame to continue dancing. "I'll keep this up for as long as I can."

If only they had something to burn, all this cave offered were potentially deadly, glowy mushrooms and rocks.

"Hmm.." Serana only mumbled, becoming quiet for several long seconds before saying something intelligible in a languid tone. "Okay, but wake me up the moment you start feeling too tired."

The Dragonborn's lips became curled with a demure smile directed at the unknowing vampire, forcing her body to relax into the cavern wall behind them. The jagged edges of the stone dug into her back, but she was more than willing to sacrifice her own comfort for her now dozing companion.

With every passing breath, Serana drifted further and further into unconsciousness, and the Dragonborn was left alone with her thoughts.

Unfortunately, this also left her with a lot of time to ponder on her own mortality again.

She had died, back there in Volkihar Castle, on the blood-soaked floor of whatever room Serana had whisked her off too. If Serana had not been there.. she would have _stayed_ dead. The woman's brows drew together, making her fingers twitch just to be sure that her flame continued to burn.

Long ago she had given up any notion that fate or luck was on her side, so she couldn't help but wonder for herself if that castle should have been where she finally met her end.

If wasn't as if she wanted to die, so of course she was beyond grateful for the second chance she had been given... by Serana.

How ironic was is, that Serana had been her savior just as she had been to the vampire back in Dimhollow Crypt. Well, the Volkihar heiress had repaid her for her daring rescue, at least.

The Dragonborn's smile had returned, subdued though blissful, her gaze wandering downward to look at the sleeping vampire in the corner of her vision. It was quickly forgotten, as her mind wandered as well, back to Volkihar Castle.

She was still having a difficult time recalling just what exactly had happened, but she supposed that was what trauma did to the brain. She knew for a fact what had killed her, she had the scars to prove it, but there felt as if something were missing. The woman's eyes narrowed in no direction in particular, attempting to piece together her broken memories of the incident.

Could it have had something to do with..

She had not done it consciously, but suddenly she realized that the tips of her free hand's fingers were hovering over her bottom lip.

Her mouth? Faintly she could recall.. the feeling of a cut splitting her lower lip. But how..?

Harkon.

The Dragonborn's mind reeled with the approach that one name, chest tightening and her body jerking underneath Serana's weight. The other vampire's breath hitched next to her, and so the woman locked herself in place, completely motionless until she felt as if her companion's rest remained undisturbed.

Her chest expanded with a deep exhale, frowning into the darkness of the underground room past the glow that her own magical flame provided.

Yes, Harkon had.. assaulted her in that manner, just to get a taste of her blood. Her skin was crawling in disgust at the memory, and jaw clenched, the Dragonborn lightly shook her head. It was over now. 

She could not believe that her mind had suppressed this for so long, why had she not broached this subject sooner? Had Serana been aware of her obliviousness this entire time?

For whatever reason, that one name too, spurred something in her buried thoughts. Another touch on her mouth, this one much softer and gentle. Definitely not Harkon, with his lips having been harsh and demanding, no.. Who else could it have been but Serana?

Slowly, the Dragonborn let her eyes fall from the far wall of the cavern, and to her own hand still hovering over the other vampire's lap.

So, Serana had kissed her.

The woman sighed dreamily, blinking into the harsh glow of her conjured fire.

She would have to be completely clueless to not notice the obvious attraction that Serana held for her. Ever since the moment they had met, the vampire had been eyeing her up and down as if she were the most delicious thing in the world. At first, the Volkihar vampire had looked at her with the intent of sizing her up, predatory and hungry, but it had changed a long time ago.

Once again, she would have to be an utter fool not acknowledge it.

Each glance that Serana threw her way was filled with unbridled affection, and truthfully, the Dragonborn was positively giddy about this revelation.

 Serana _cared_. Serana was not like the others, she had been a gift to her the second she tumbled out of that dusty crypt and almost immediately threatened her life with that charming, devilish smirk.

The woman felt herself smiling, unconsciously pressing closer to the vampire next to her. It was short-lived, however, the reality of their situation always prepared to knock those pleasant notions aside.

Here she was again, in this impossible position, the fate of Skyrim in the palms of her hands along with the lives of its millions of inhabitants. She did not have to time to dwell on this.. even if the very object of her endearment had been practically glued to her since the start of this fiasco.

The Dragonborn jerked with a frustrated _hmmph_ , one that thankfully didn't bother her companion all that much.

Every second was incredibly aggravating with Serana lately, but it wasn't entirely the vampire's fault. Words couldn't express just how badly the Dragonborn wished to grab the vampire sometimes and _show_ her just how much she meant to the woman. She wasn't that skilled with words, anyway, but what she wanted to do would speak a thousand of them for her.

But she couldn't.. not now, not where they were. She couldn't relax, she couldn't let her guard down until Harkon was no longer a threat and Skyrim was safe.

...And it didn't help at all that Serana was the most beautiful woman she had ever met.

 _Oh, please._ The Dragonborn scoffed internally, effectively having spaced out into her own wandering thoughts.

Everything about Serana was alluring. Her voice, her eyes, her queenly features, her velvet-like hair braided in such a way that it appeared as if a crown was weaved around her head. Her lips, nearly always quirked with that dazzling smile whenever she looked to the Dragonborn, and her...

Unexpectedly, the very vampire herself chuckled airily against her shoulder. "Is there any particular reason why you're staring at my chest?"

Mortified, the Dragonborn realized, that yes, she _was_ looking directly at Serana's chest, right were that ridiculous opening in the front of her Volkihar "armor" was.

Quickly, her head shot upward to instead look to the opposite wall of the cavern.

"I wasn't staring." She insisted too hastily, the flame she had been kindling in her palm flickering, before sputtering out along with her concentration.

Serana's sarcastic, drawling response did what it did best, making her feel like the biggest fool in Nirn as she peered down at the hand that had previously been alight. "Really? You weren't?"

"No..." She mumbled while willing another spark to take form in her palm, feeling the vampire next to her silently laughing. "I was just.. thinking... in that general.. direction."

 _What a lame excuse, she'll never believe that._ The Dragonborn winced, successful in creating another flame, though her very being was ablaze with humiliation.

She'd been caught, caught when she hadn't even been aware what she was doing until it was too late. Serana wasn't some woman to be appreciated only for her.. assets, the Dragonborn was ashamed that her own conscious had dared to even venture to such a place.

Though, of course, Serana flourished on any kind of attention she gave her, whatever it may be.

The vampire sounded quite pleased with herself, when she spoke in that characteristically slow and sardonic way of hers. "What were you thinking about?"

 _Gods, Serana do you really have to do this to me?_ Biting her lip, the Dragonborn tilted her chin to the right and away from the other woman, desperately grasping for another reason to give than to admit that she actually _had_ been admiring the vampire.

"I was thinking about Auriel's Bow." She retorted in a pointed manner, refusing to act upon her urge to glance downward at the self-satisfied expression she felt piercing into her from below.

Gah, she couldn't let Serana have this one. The Dragonborn wouldn't hear the end of it for years, and that fact was even more terrifying now that she had an eternity.

Perhaps.. perhaps she could salvage this. The only way to combat Serana's wit was with even sharper wit.

The Dragonborn's mind flickered briefly to the source of her troubles at the moment.

Honestly, labeling that get-up of Serana's "Volkihar Armor" was very generous. She was vampire for Gods' sake, what in the world required a _vampire's_ armor to have a window right over their chest? What good did that hood do for her, when her cleavage was more exposed to the sun than her head had been without it?

The Dragonborn purposely curled the left side of her mouth, so that Serana was able to see it. "..I was also thinking about the absurdity of calling that lambskin and silk sundress you wear 'armor'."

Serana gasped sharply in a wounded tone: " _Sundress?_ " The false offense was soon replaced with amusement, however. "We've been around each other for who knows how long, and _now_ of all times you're criticizing my wardrobe?"

"Maybe you should consider wearing something less ludicrous, and I wouldn't have to." The Dragonborn scoffed in retaliation, making the mistake of sparing a glance to the incredulous vampire.

What she was met with was a smirk, a smirk that sank her hopes of escaping this confrontation unscathed like a stone. "Maybe you should consider being less obvious when gawking at my chest."

"I was _not_ gawking." The woman shot back immediately, instantly flustered at the mention of it. What this really did was confirm the unspoken response of:  _I *was* looking, not gawking._

She only caught her blunder when Serana started with that pleasant, bubbling laughter next to her, and the Dragonborn scowled.

Gods _dammit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You know, I relate to that scene of them being bashed around by the river on a spiritual level, because not too long ago I slipped down the stairs at my house and bruised the hell out of myself.**


	23. Touching the Sky Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Serana and I must complete the ritual of the Chantry of Auriel by visiting each Wayshrine located in Forgotten Vale to reach Auriel's Bow. Knight-Paladin Gelebor has also asked us to defeat his brother, Vyrthur, another Snow Elf hiding inside the Chantry._

As Serana emerged from the underground depths of Darkfall Passage, the Initiates' Ewer in hand, not even the dull shine of the sun looming overhead could dampen her spirits.

An indomitable little smile had not left her lips since she and the Dragonborn had picked themselves up from that underground river shore and began venturing deeper and deeper into Darkfall Cave.

Many interesting things had occurred in between this moment, most notably the appearance of that Knight-Paladin Gelebor.

While it was fascinating to see a Snow Elf without it being hunchbacked, blind, and trying to gut her with a Chaurus-chitin sword, Serana could not tear her thoughts away from someone much more interesting than one of the last living men of his kind.

The Dragonborn had actually been _looking_ at her, as in, _admiring_ her. At least, that was what Serana hoped and had decided to believe.

That "armor" incident had really thrown her and her fragile little emotions a bone, as much as she hated to admit it. This was the first time the woman had ever treated her in such a way, and the vampire was well.. pathetically thrilled about it.

After all this time, months it felt like.. Serana was not very familiar with the concept of time anymore. Anyway, _months_ of dodging her obvious flirtations, Serana had honestly begun to suspect that the Dragonborn just was not interested in her, or women for that matter.

They had been through so much together, that Serana had been expecting at least one crack in the mask of professionalism that the woman treated her with by now. They were _literally_ bound by blood, and yet.. it still felt as if the Dragonborn were holding her just at arm's length.

Though it wasn't as if she felt completely set aside by the woman. She could see her gratitude with every small, but rare smile saved just for her that made her dead heart flutter as if she were a lovesick girl again. She just.. she was still not sure whether that gratitude went deeper than simple comradery.

Serana longed to let go of the ornate Ewer in her grip to lay a hand on the hilt of a very special ebony dagger tucked in the sheathe on her left hip, but she couldn't without risk of dropping it.

Perhaps her affections for this woman were really not at all in vain; she just had to try harder to thaw that icy exterior that the Dragonborn possessed. Now was really the time to start amping up that irresistible feminine charm of hers.

Serana felt the curve on her lips thin into something positively self-satisfied as she continued to walk. That poor woman had no idea what was about to be unleashed upon her.

A light drizzle greeted she and the Dragonborn the further they climbed the winding stone ledges leading upward from Darkfall Passage, the soothing drops of water kissing her skin pleasantly. The presence of the rain was not all that terrible, the clouds that accompanied it blocking most of the sunlight and sparing her from its wrath. She was still aching from that tumble they took down the river in the caves, and she had the bruises to prove it.

The woman in front of her momentarily dipped out sight when she clambered up the granite ledge before them and fully above ground.

Serana stopped, clutching the Ewer between her palms, experiencing twinge of irritation that managed to wipe the smirk from her lips. She wouldn't be able to follow, at least not until she passed it up to the Dragonborn.

This entire pilgrimage they had to go through was going to be a real hassle; she _really_ had to lug this glorified bucket of water around the entire Vale? It was ridiculous, but if some bunch of scholarly mortals could do it, Serana sure as hell could.

Plus, completing the ritual was the only possible way to gain access to the Chantry, and non-believer or not, Serana was not going to try to force herself inside. She and sacred chapels of ancient gods already had a strained relationship.

"Here, I'll take that." The Dragonborn offered above her, and the vampire's smile made its triumphant return as she was pulled from her thoughts.

She looked up to the woman on her elevated position, the gentle rainfall dappling her, and gladly lifted the Initiates Ewer to the other woman.

It was time to enact her plans, or at least test the waters first. The woman had been comically jumpy since they had left that riverbank inside Darkfall Passage, somehow quieter than usual and refusing to meet Serana's eyes. Serana was definitely going to wring some amusement out of that, one way or another.

Her eyes narrowed slyly as she watched the Dragonborn's hands coming closer to the Ewer, though to the woman above her it could have looked more like she was squinting to lessen the glare of the daylight upon her.

Purposely, as the Initiates Ewer was transferred from her hold to the woman's, Serana let the tips of her index, middle, and ring finger brush effortlessly against the Dragonborn's skin.

She felt it, that electrifying tingle humming straight through her hand and into her bones.

With a borderline predatory perception, Serana noted the other woman's reaction.

Her movements faltered for a split-second as if she were trying to relish in the brief feeling, and inwardly Serana was marveling at the thought how of readily she let the vampire touch her. It was quite an improvement from their first weeks together, when the Dragonborn would flinch and jerk away like a startled animal.

 _She doesn't mind, if it's me.._ Oh, how that fact filled her with such a strange, warm feeling right in the center of her chest.

Serana was struggling not to let her satisfaction at this realization show, letting her smile appear more benevolent than smug when she peered up at the woman.

"Would you be so kind to help me up, please?" Delivering it in a coquettish tone, all that the request was missing was a very stereotypical fluttering of eyelashes, but Serana felt that it worked well enough on its own when it rewarded her with the response she had been aiming for.

The Dragonborn jerked slightly, as if stricken from a trance, and stood rigid.

"O-oh? Yes, of course." She spoke quickly in reply, red eyes unfocused. She shifted the Ewer so that her left arm wrapped around its rounded middle and pressed into her side, and offered her free hand to the vampire.

Serana was obviously eating up every second of the awkward display, promptly planting her own palm into the other woman's and flashing another becoming smile.

The Dragonborn's brows were knitted, and she looked hilariously bewildered as she helped Serana pull herself up the ledge.

The vampire moved in step with the woman as she went backward to allow Serana enough room, perhaps letting their hands remain in contact a bit too long, before releasing her to observe where this hole in the ground had led them to.

For the second time since her awakening, the vampire was rendered completely starstruck by some very glorious scenery.

The valley was like a jagged cut in the earth, sprinkled with towering, frost-covered firs and vivid patches of mountain flowers. Its basin was half water and half land, small ponds dotting the dips in the earth below all of the small hills and granite ridges. A thin layer of mist wafted upward from the ground, giving the Vale a hazy, almost mystical feeling. The mountains in the distance were snow-capped and mighty, stretching farther than even her eyesight could see into the horizon.

Serana painfully aware of the dire situation she was in, one that would most likely lead to the death of her own father... so she was grateful for the magnificent view. She sighed almost dreamily, one hand lifting to rest above her heart.

The Dragonborn had always told her she was such a sucker for these kinds of things, and Serana shamelessly agreed with that right about now. She'd wear it proudly, if it only meant that she was able to share these kinds of moments with the woman.

"This.. this is the kind of thing I've always wanted to see," Serana uttered breathlessly, then, she turned to her companion. "I'm glad you're here with me." The vampire confessed with a sincere smile.

And truly, she was. There wasn't anyone else that she would rather have at her side right now.

For a few seconds, the Dragonborn only looked at her, expression slightly troubled, then she blinked once.

"Yes.. I.." She hesitated, eyes darting to the ground, then back to Serana.

The Volkihar vampire's focus zeroed in on the other woman's mouth as she awaited her finished response, and Serana was struck with just how badly she wanted to place her own lips upon them again.

She really, really, _really_ wanted to.

Serana wanted her kiss, a kiss where the Dragonborn wasn't half-conscious, her life pooling out of her and forming a red puddle beneath her body.

Perhaps this was her chance; she could receive that sought-after kiss right here and now, at the foot of this gorgeous valley with the rain drizzling soothingly upon them. What could possibly be more romantic?

"I'm happy, too, Serana." The Dragonborn replied candidly at last, that lovely mouth of hers smiling so prettily.. and she was so close, close enough for Serana to just shorten the distance between them and...

In the corner of her eye, the vampire saw something very big, and very fast rushing towards them. Its footsteps were rapid, and its breath rattled from its lungs wildly. Whatever it was, it was most likely not running up to just say hello.

Her desire faded and the moment was shattered, instincts kicking in just in time for Serana to lurch into the Dragonborn and tackle her to the snow, a snarling Vale Saber Cat leaping right over them.

Honestly, she should have been more worried by the fact that one of them had about to been pounced on by a giant killer feline, but she was livid.

 _Almost! I almost had her!_ That fur-ball was going to pay!

"You know.. I'm starting to think you're just looking for any reason to be on top of me." The Dragonborn spoke beneath her, half-buried in the snow and near enough that Serana could feel the puff of her cold breath against her neck.

This situation _and_ position felt very familiar.

Somehow, the vampire's polar body felt a chill, from the tips of her fingers pressed into the other woman's shoulder to the very base of her spine.

She wanted to shriek with joy, (she was actually flirting back at her, now, of all times?!) but she would most likely be doing that in pain if they didn't first deal with the snarling saber cat standing right over them.

Still, Serana almost could not resist a reply, peering down at the woman with a complacent smirk that they both shared, before she felt the very woman's hand grasp the collar of her corset, and the vampire was yanked downward into the Dragonborn.

Serana felt a sharp set of claws swipe through the empty space above her that she had once been occupying, and wasn't even able to appreciate the fact that she and the Dragonborn were pressed closer than that form-fitting Nightingale Armor that the woman owned.

The Dragonborn's legs were wrapping firmly around her torso, and Serana wasn't quite sure what was going on anymore when her head spun, along with her entire body, so that she was now the one being straddled.

It wasn't if she was going to complain, looking upward to watch the flash of the Dragonborn's newly acquired silver blade as she pulled it from its sheathe and swiped at predator preparing to jump at them again.

Tangled up with someone while sinking into the snowy drift wasn't exactly the most ideal way to fight a Saber Cat, Serana would admit, but..

The cat's blue-furred form lurched when the sword's blade sliced across its chest, right below its throat. The snow was soon stained a startling shade of red, seeping into the ice around the saber cat's head where it lay.

A splatter of it had also found its way over the side of the Dragonborn's hand, coating her little finger, which she regarded with a hint of surprise, before lifting it toward her mouth.

Serana's heart was thumping weakly from a feeling much, _much_ different than fear, as she watched the woman's tongue swipe over her skin to wipe the blood away, content to stay right where she was underneath her to enjoy the view a little longer.

As odd as it sounded, Serana had watched the woman do the same thing a thousand times, when she was mortal, enjoying food, usually something particularly sweet. It had never affected her as much as it did now, with newly surfaced feelings fresh in her mind.

Did she have _any_ idea of what she was doing? _No, no of course not._ The vampire sighed internally, endearingly; that woman was about as dense as an ingot of iron when it came to situations like this.

When she was finished, the Dragonborn splayed her now bloodless hand out in front of her, observing it for a second before meeting Serana's eyes. Her smile was faint, almost not quite there, but Serana's mind was far too clouded to realize this, until the woman spoke.

"Was that blood you gave me at Proudspire Manor human?" The Dragonborn asked curiously.

Serana's smirk dropped instantly.

 _No, no, no, dammit. Gods, I love you, but you completely ruined this._ The vampire wanted to huff in frustration, managing to keep that irritation from her expression as she looked up at the woman. Had she conveniently forgotten how she had been flirting with Serana only minutes before? "Yes, it was. Why?"

The Dragonborn only shrugged, head tilting to the side toward the saber cat's corpse, before replying. She never made a move to rise, to get off of Serana. Serana wasn't opposed to staying like this, honestly. "That was a different flavor, and now I feel a little foolish to have thought that all blood would have tasted the same."

Oh, how adorable.

Serana chuckled delightedly beneath her, half wondering if the woman had forgotten their position, half amused by the innocence of her statement, and the Dragonborn realized what she still doing to Serana at the same time.

Serana was almost offended with how hastily she shot to her feet, an uncharacteristic inelegance to her movements.

"Ah, sorry," She uttered awkwardly, offering a hand to the downed vampire. "But.. thank you for that save back there." The Dragonborn went on when Serana accepted, and let herself be pulled to her feet.

Serana hid her bemused smile by glancing downward as she brushed stray snowflakes from her chest and legs. Some flecks of ice had found its way down the front of her corset, and she was thankful that her body was already far too cold to feel them.

"No problem." She sighed, brushing at the opening in her armor, and swiping a cluster of ice crystals to the ground. She threw a scornful glance to the still-bleeding corpse of the saber cat.

 _There's always another time, Serana._ The vampire reminded herself. _Saving her from being mauled by a saber cat is more important than your selfishness._

She returned her gaze to the other woman, who was very obviously looking straight at her chest, where one of Serana's hands still hovered.

Now _this_ was the kind of attention Serana had been craving from this woman since the moment they met, even if the Dragonborn was regarding the area with the strangest expression Serana had ever witnessed. She appeared almost.. personally offended. Serana still took the fact that she was even looking as a compliment.

"You're staring, again." Serana reminded the woman, lowering her hand and smiling victoriously.

The Dragonborn startled, hissing something in Dunmeri and snapping her head to the side, her earrings jingling wildly.

"I wasn't." She insisted.

Tilting her head, Serana flashed a full-toothed grin. "If you weren't staring, what were you doing?"

"I.. was thinking," The Dragonborn began slowly, and the vampire rolled her eyes. She had already used that one, she was going to have to try harder than that.

"I was thinking," The woman repeated more firmly, "..where the _hell_ the Ewer had gone, and your chest just happened to be in the way."

Whatever shred of vanity Serana had been feeling melted as she flushed with a mutual concern for the missing Ewer, eyes widening. She had forgotten completely about that stupid bucket, but they _needed_ that stupid bucket.

" _Wh-_ You were holding it, I don't know!" Serana retorted sharply, glancing around frantically. The landscape was mostly covered in white, it shouldn't be that hard to locate the Ewer, but if they really had lost it...

"There!" The Dragonborn called, and Serana turned to the sound of her voice, and her stomach promptly sunk with dread.

There indeed, facing upside down in the blanket of snow was the Initiates' Ewer. It left a trail in the drift, probably having been thrown from the Dragonborn's grasp when Serana tackled her.

Her companion swore as she approached it, bending to wrap her fingers around its beautifully carved handles. She flipped it around, and looked down into it.

 _Don't tell me we have to go all the way back.._ Serana groaned internally, boots cutting through the snow to join the Dragonborn and glance over her shoulder. Her brows raised at what she discovered.

"It's.. frozen." Serana stated the very obvious, her concern fading. This place must have been very frigid; they had not been outside for even ten minutes, it seemed. Still this was good news, they wouldn't have to crawl back through that rock tomb of cave to the first wayshrine after all.

The Dragonborn said nothing, the both of them sharing a deep sigh and allowing a lull of relieved silence to settle over the snow-capped hillside.

Serana lifted her red eyes, sweeping them across the Vale once more. This place was truly stunning, and this moment was truly soothing. Serana felt as if she could stand here for hours with the Dragonborn, just appreciating each other's company.

She was not sure how much time passed, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, when the Dragonborn exhaled heavily, clutching the Initiates Ewer closer to herself.

"We.. should get moving." She sounded as if she did not really want to, and Serana smiled softly to herself.

"Sure." The vampire replied blithely, and feeling bold, she slipped her arm beneath the Dragonborn's to latch herself to the woman.

The woman looked to her questioningly for a moment, and Serana gave her what she thought to be the most charming smile she could muster.

Glancing away, Serana caught only the edge of her own smile as she adjusted her grip on the Ewer, and they descended into the valley.

* * *

The wind was a lot less inviting above the safety of the Forgotten Vale's icy walls. It was harsh and stinging, even to the vampire all but immune to cold. It bit at the skin of her cheeks, and Serana imagined that she would be quite rosy in the face if she were still mortal, where she and Dragonborn stood at the peak of a steep, icicle-lined ridge that overlooked the valley they had just crossed.

Climbing up that deathtrap of a hill had been a harrowing adventure, with it being covered in ice, loose snow, and the currently howling gusts threatening to blow them away like those peculiar golden leaves drifting down from the trees in the Rift, but they had done it.

While this vantage point made her feel as if she were standing on a cloud miles up into the deep blue sky, Serana could not fully enjoy it, because they were about to something even more dangerous than clambering up a slippery fifty-foot high hill.

She and Dragonborn stood at the snow-covered bank of a vast lake, the body of water was completely frozen, fissures spread jaggedly throughout its surface. Frankly, it looked about as reliable as twig bridge hanging over a ravine, and Serana would prefer that they not take their chances with it, but..

"Are you sure that's a Word Wall? This ice looks.." Grimacing, Serana glanced downward, and prodded at the sheet of ice in front of them with the toe of her boot. It creaked slightly beneath her weight. She tried to pretend that her dead heart didn't jump when it did. "...and feels thin."

"I'm positive." The Dragonborn replied, facing away from Serana to peer across the immense stretch of flat space in front of them. At the very edge of the lake, against the valley wall, stood a gigantic frosted slab of stone.

"But how?" Serana pressed, squinting, trying to make out the iced-over writing that she could see carved into its surface. She could barely read anything from this distance, and she and Dragonborn had the same level of superhuman eyesight now, so how in the world could she know?

"Because I can hear it." The woman said, taking a careful step forward.

"You can _hear_ it?" The vampire asked incredulously, clutching the handles of the Initiates Ewer with white knuckles.

With one foot off of the security of the solid shore, the other woman glanced back at Serana.

"Yes, Serana, I can hear it," She retorted, exasperated, "..and I'm not going to ignore it. It's a Word of Power, maybe it's a Shout I've never seen before." As she spoke, a pleasant smile curved the edges of her mouth that nearly put the vampire's worries at ease.

Serana released the tension in her shoulders, and exhaled heavily. The Dragons' culture was very important to the woman, this was understandable.

Serana tried to soften her expression, looking to the woman who seemed to be waiting for her verdict on whether to risk it or not. That was polite of her. Serana could probably pull off a smile of her own now.

"Okay.. okay, I see your point." The vampire conceded, grasping the Ewer tightly against herself as she ventured onto the ice.

Still wearing that adorable half-smile, the Dragonborn nodded, and turned away from Serana to begin padding toward the center of the frozen lake. She strode without concern for the ominous, brittle creaking that each of her steps made over the ice, and Serana gazed after her while she walked at more subdued pace with apprehension no doubt written all over her face.

The lake wasn't... all that terrible, Serana would admit. There was a sort of alien beauty about traversing such a barren landscape, she pondered while purposely blocking out the groaning of the ice. Serana imagined that this was what the surface of the moon was like, empty, limitless, sparkling white and blue.

Serana took her praise back when the rumbling began.

Immediately the vampire stopped, lips pressed together as she looked to the Dragonborn ahead of her.

The other woman halted as well, posture stiff and balancing on the balls of her feet. Slowly, she looked down into the hazy surface of the lake underneath her, and Serana did not like the sharp breath that she took.

Well, more specifically, Serana did not like _why_ she took that sharp breath.

With a grinding _crrk!_ , a crack had appeared right between her feet, and with a series of snaps that spewed tiny chips of ice, it threaded outward like a Frosbite Spiderweb. It cut its way toward Serana, stopping short just at the tips of her boots.

Serana would have totally jumped on the chance to begin shouting "I told you so!", but she would rather save the scolding for a time when they weren't in danger of falling through the ice and plunging into deathly cold water.

 _This was exactly what I thought was going to happen._ The vampire thought sourly to herself, tossing a glance over her shoulder to see how far they had gone from the security of solid ground.

She winced, gritting her teeth. They were almost directly at the center of the lake, the Word Wall was a better option to make a break for it than backtracking.

Serana heard the Dragonborn sigh, though it was not a breath of annoyance or respite, it was nervous.

"Serana," The woman started, and the vampire returned her red eyes to her.

The Dragonborn had turned herself around so that she now faced Serana, the ice underneath her a patchwork of cracks that threatened to give away any second. Her expression was impressively calm, though the other vampire could detect the agitation etching the line between her brows.

Her lips were pursed, as if she were going to say something else, but before another word could leave her Serana felt the second sinister tremor rattle the ice, and a mighty crack shattered the air.

Almost simultaneously, Serana felt everything beginning to tilt to her left as a gigantic silhouette burst upward from the lake and soared into the sky.

"Serana!" The Dragonborn shouted her name this time, but the vampire was too preoccupied with that fact that the shard of ice she stood on was dipping toward the rippling black water because her weight, and she couldn't do a thing about it with the Ewer still wrapped in her arms.

She couldn't even worry about what the hell had just exploded into the sky from the depths of a frozen lake, because inwardly, she was screaming: _I can't lose this Ewer and let it sink to the bottom of a lake!_ along with a _Are you really going to risk drowning over a stupid bucket?_

She really was going to be going for a swim, either way, she realized as she felt the traction she had on the ice loosening. When she began sliding, Serana squeezed her eyes shut, having accepted her fate.

Serana _had_ accepted defeat, at least until someone's hand had closed around the edge of the silver choker her armor possessed, and she was yanked backward.

Choking out a yelp, Serana's entire body was jerked backward, and she would have slammed painfully into the ice if not for the Dragonborn catching her by her other shoulder.

" _Gah!_ That burns!" The Dragonborn hissed behind her, but Serana ignored her to look to the clouds after letting out an endlessly relieved breath.

"Is.. that.. a dragon?" She uttered shakily, half-aware of the fact that she had slumped into the Dragonborn, who stood behind her, clinging to her just as desperately.

As if she really needed to ask! It was most definitely a Dragon cutting into the sky above them, circling and pumping its wings with leathery flaps. From miles away, the vampire could feel the cruel intelligence burning from its beady eyes, searing into them.

"...Yes-" The Dragonborn was not even given the chance to say more, when another ear-splitting _crack!_ echoed across the lake's surface.

The both of them flinched, heads snapping toward its source where _another_ dragon had just emerged from beneath the ice.

" _What the fuck_?" Serana heard the Dragonborn utter softly right at her ear, and she could have nearly laughed, it was the first time she had heard the other woman curse in a language Serana could actually understand.

Although now they had two ancient, powerful, oversized reptiles to deal with, and there was nothing amusing about that. The Dragonborn may have been a genuine dragon-slayer, but she could she handle two of them on this tricky terrain? Serana was not certain she would be able to help much, she might be more a hindrance than anything.

"What are we going to do?" Serana fretted to her companion, red eyes darting between the two individually flying beasts looping through the skies over them like a couple of scaly vultures.

The Dragonborn answered her with a Shout:

" _Dur neh viir_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Can't be romance without that cliche cock-block, can it? Or would it be.. lip-block? These two sure do tackle each other a lot.**


	24. Touching the Sky Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Patrolling the gloomy skies of the Soul Cairn, Durnehviir hears her call..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SWEET VINDICATION!**

For a thousand years, Durnehviir had roamed the same sulfuric, murky skies; the skies where the air was riddled with smoke and death, and below the souls of the damned wandered, infinitely lost.

Durnehviir had grown weary of these skies long ago. How long ago, he was not certain.

He had been lured to the Soul Cairn with the promise of access to an undead army to command, the ultimate temptation to fulfill his desire of mastering necromancy.

The dragon gave his mighty wings another flap, propelling him onward in his eternal patrol of the most desolate plane of Oblivion. The bland landscape blurred by underneath him, serrated lightning shooting from the jagged clouds to pierce it.

Long ago he had made a pact with the Ideal Masters, a pact that the ancient dragon wished he had never agreed to.

He was to guard Valerica until her death, and he had agreed heartily. He had never known that his charge was a vampire, who was _also_ immortal. Now he was stuck, doomed to watch over these grey, dead skies until the ends of time.

The Ideal Masters had deceived him, and like the fool he was, Durnehviir let them. He should have realized that this deal was too good to be true.

Oh, how he yearned for the vast blueness of Tamriel's heavens instead, how he longed to slice through the white clouds once again, to shake the trees and ground with his powerful Thu'um.

Durnehviir despised this place deeply, but now.. perhaps he would have his chance to see Tamriel and its beauty anew.

 _Qahnaarin_... She had vowed to summon him. Durnehviir only hoped that the Dovahkiin was a woman true to her word. She seemed honorable, their duel proved much to him, and should she act on her promise, Durnehviir would fight for her.

As if the strings of Fate were being tugged for his soul alone, at that moment, the Soul Cairn echoed a single name in the most impressive Thu'um of all:

" _Dur neh viir_!"

It rolled through the stormy skies like earth-shattering thunder, and the Dragon's muzzle jerked upward, his beady yellow eyes bright.

She was calling him! _Qahnaarin_ was actually calling to him!

Letting loose a gleeful, yet still intimidating roar, Durnehviir gave his haggard wings another thrust, his colossal body cutting through the air like a whistling arrow.

He sailed even further upward, toward the heart of the midnight rift that consumed the Soul Cairn's brooding sky. The power of her Thu'um pulled him, tugging at his core the deeper Durnehviir plunged into the now inky blackness that was swallowing him.

Momentarily, the ancient dragon felt a twinge of panic when what was left of his soul flickered, but soon he was ripped from the clutches of the Soul Cairn, and greeted by the blinding blue gleam of Tamriel.

Durnehviir let himself glide aimlessly as he reentered the mortal world for the first time in a millenia, reptilian eyes sweeping all around him in wonder.

The air felt so.. clean, so clean and crisp, as alive as the gusts of wind that buffeted into him and the wetness left by the clouds that he flew through.

Blinking, Durnehviir tilted his nose downward to see the mortal world now below him.

There were mountains, a stretch of magnificent mountains blanketed by snow and dotted with rustling fir trees and greenery. He could see rivers cutting into the earth, and waterfalls suspended in time by the frigid air that had turned them to ice.

It was beautiful, even more beautiful than he had remembered. Durnehviir's chest swelled with a pleasant, warm feeling, gratitude surging through him for... her!

 _Qahnaarin_! She must have summoned him for a reason, he imagined, and he could not waste his precious time in Tamriel admiring the landscape when she had called to him needing his assistance.

Angling his wings so that they caught the breeze, Durnehviir slowed his flight, his clawed feet hanging in the sky as he pumped his wings to hover.

Bobbing up and down, the ancient dragon swept his gaze around the unfamiliar valley in search of the Dovahkiin.

From this height, he could not even seen the ends of the Vale, the ridges to the north shrouded by a thick mist. To the south, it was covered in frosted trees and twisted into dips in the earth that formed gleaming canyons. At the top of the nearest frozen waterfall, there was a strangely empty stretch of land, and that was where Durnehviir's attention was drawn to.

Its surface was cracked in places, black water churning in contrast against the glistening white landscape. The more alarming part of this sight, however, were the two Dragons on the fracturing ice, the small form of _Qahnaarin_ fending them off with her little tooth-pick of a weapon. The female vampire that accompanied her was nowhere in sight, for the time being.

An alarmed growl rumbled from Durnehviir's chest, his long neck weaving like a serpent in the air as he propelled forward with a single urgent flap of his wings.

Durneviir did not know these Dragons, their appearances were exotic to him: fringed heads, almond eyes, a cupid bow shaped tail tip, and bright splotches of color on their scales. They were practically miniature compared to him, with their narrow and stream-lined bodies.

His kin or not, they were attacking the Dovakiin, and their slight stature only made it all that easier for Durnehviir to vanquish them.

The ancient dragon made his arrival known with a threatening roar as he descended toward the frozen lake.

The two Vale Dragons' heads instantly turned from their target, _Qahnaarin_ , who stumbled backward in surprise and nearly lost her footing on the ice. Diving for the solid ground, Durnehviir was close enough now to see the expression on her face, a smile. Durnehviir never thought he would see a human looking at him with such relief.

One of the Vale Dragons launched itself upward before Durneviir reached the lake, and he changed course to pursue it, leaving the other to the Dovahkiin.

The Dragon did not seem that concerned by the quickly approaching Durnehviir, and he was momentarily perplexed. Did it think that he was fighting with them, not against them?

 _Fool._ The undead dragon sneered to himself.

With a burst of speed, Durnehviir met the other Dragon midair, stretching his hind feet outward to catch its left shoulder with his claws. The Vale Dragon yelped in bewilderment, and with their added momentum Durnehviir slammed the lesser dragon into the towering ice-coated mountainside that loomed over the frozen lake.

Brittle icicles shattered like raining glass all around them, and thrusting his wings backward, Durnehviir gave the Vale Dragon one last shove into the now split ridge of ice before pushing himself away to hover over his fallen brethren.

Hissing in complaint, the smaller dragon crashed to the snowy ground at the edge of the lake on its back, legs kicking wildly as it struggled to twist itself upright.

" _Traitor_!" It screeched at him in Dragon Tongue, its orange eyes alight with fury as it pivoted its body around trying to face him. " _You would help the slayer of our kind_?"

 _Traitor?_ Durnehviir scoffed, his scar-torn lips curling back.

He had never cared much for Alduin and his following, so he had absolutely no qualms at all with being called a traitor by his kin, it was the truth after all. Durnehviir had effectively abandoned them the moment he agreed to serve the Ideal Masters anyway.

Without a word, Durnehviir surged downward upon the grounded Vale dragon, slamming his feet into its chest to throw it onto its back again. The Vale dragon shrieked, wriggling beneath him when Durnehviir lunged for its throat, sinking his teeth into the fragile skin that surrounded the underside of its jugular.

He wasn't even going to waste the power of his Thu'um on this disgrace of a Dragon, he decided, jerking his jaws shut.

There was a sickening pop of its vertebrae, and with one last croak, the Vale dragon went limp.

Its soul immediately began draining from its body, scales melting into angelic golden light that sought out the Dovahkiin.

" _Joor Zah Frul!_ "

Lifting his now bloodied muzzle from the dead Dragon, Durnehviir looked to the source of the Shout, the brilliant rush of energy guiding him.

The remaining Vale Dragon's flight faltered when the blue light of the Dovahkiin's Shout collided with it, snaking around its body and anchoring it to the earth. Instead of letting itself fall, however, Durnehviir watched as the Vale Dragon tucked in on itself and dove directly toward the surface of the frozen body of water.

Its head cleaved through the ice with a magnificent _crack_ , its burdened silhouette disappearing into depths of the lake.

Dark water lapped at the craggy edges of the holes in the ice, onto the tips of _Qahnaarin's_ boots where she stood at the brink of one of them. The woman stepped backward, spinning on her heels and glaring into the ice underneath her as if tracking movement.

A voice, muffled by the howling wind sweeping across the landscape, rose to call out to the Dovahkiin, and along with the woman, Durnehviir turned to the speaker.

It was that female vampire, standing at the stairs of a frost-licked Word Wall positioned at the other edge of the lake. In one arm she held some sort of silver bucket, and the other she used to gesture toward a spot in the lake.

Not a second later, the place she had motioned to exploded into a shower of ice chunks and deathly frigid water. The Vale Dragon shot upward from right beneath the Dovahkiin, tendrils of her Shout's energy still swirling around its form.

 _Qahnaarin_ was thrown to the ice, crashing to its surface on one of her shoulders and sliding several feet.

It was then that Durnehviir spread his weathered wings, and lifted himself off of the skeleton of the other dragon to take flight.

Unable to retreat to the skies as he did, the Vale Dragon drug itself from the abyss of the water with the appendages on its wings, a gash leaking red down its forehead. Growling lowly, it began crawling toward _Qahnaarin_ with streams of liquid slicking off of its scales.

The Dovahkiin, on her palms and knees, scrambled to stand upright, brandishing her blade at the advancing dragon.

Now circling steadily above the nearly completely shattered lake, Durnehviir watched. He would interfere if he felt it was necessary, but.. a small part of him wanted to witness the Dovahkiin in action. He had gotten a taste of her strength during their battle in the Soul Cairn and he wished to see what more she could do.

The Vale dragon's head dove for _Qahnaarin_ , and she rolled sideways from the snap of its jaws. Sliding across the ice on her knees, she went beneath its chest, pointing her sword upward and carving through its flesh from its center to its stomach. Wailing, the Vale dragon's back arched, the spikes along its spine flaring. Red splattered the cracked ice underneath it.

The Dovahkiin appeared at its other end kneeling again, her free palm hastily gliding over her face to wipe away the blood that had drenched her. Her upper half was soaked, beads of vibrant crimson dripping from her hair.

The Vale dragon collapsed, its right wing folding into itself and howling its death throes. The Dovakiin's cut was deep, and its blood pooled from it too rapidly for it to be able to keep the fight up any longer. Its strength fading, the Dragon dropped completely to the ice, where its life ended with a one last guttural groan.

Defeated with only one slash of _Qahnaarin's_ sword. Durnehviir's respect for the Dovahkiin only doubled faced with this reality, and roaring his approval, he directed himself downward to land while the Vale dragon's soul left its corpse to be absorbed by its slayer.

Durnehviir glided toward the Word Wall, extending his hind feet downward to catch its arch. The old stone shuddered supporting his weight, knocking loose small icicles that broke to pieces when they met they ground. Propping his wings along it, the ancient dragon peered down at the women below him.

The Dovahkiin's companion, the other vampire, was directly underneath him, now shrouded by the shadow that his massive body created. She stood rigid, tilting her head back to peer nervously up at him and hugging the container she held close to her chest.

Finding her unease humorous, the ancient dragon exhaled heavily through his nose, the rush of air buffeting the female vampire's chin-length black hair.

Her fierce red eyes widened in a comical manner, but the look was fleeting as the both of them turned to the crunching of _Qahnaarin's_ footsteps over the ice as she approached.

"Gods, you look like you walked straight out of a nightmare." The female vampire said to the Dovahkiin, her throaty voice full of laughter.

 _Qahnaarin_ stopped at her companion's side, crimson continuing to drip from her body and tarnishing the white of the snow. An equally amused curl to her bloodstained lips, she raised her hand to her face once again and rubbed away a large splotch of red from her forehead.

The Dovahkiin flicked her sodden hand at the other vampire, spraying her with the Vale dragon's blood.

Her partner recoiled, spitting a curse and whining: "Damn you, you're going to stain my clothes!"

While Durnehviir found their antics to be rather charming, he did not have much time left in the mortal world, and he couldn't waste it watching them dance around each other like this. He still had to fulfill his end of their bargain.

" _Qahnaarin_ , I thank you for this." Durnehviir rumbled at full volume, jarring the both of them from their squabble. The Dovahkiin, her pale skin painted in red and dark hair still leaking it, faced him with a small smile already forming.

"As promised," He continued now that he had her full attention, "I will now teach you the first word of Soul Tearing: _Rii_ \- the essence of your enemy's life force."

His Word of Power shimmered through the frigid air, searing itself into the stone of the Word Wall underneath him, at the Dovahkiin's feet.

 _Qahnaarin_ , her eyes narrowed, consumed his knowledge of the Word, memorizing it within seconds.

With her full understanding of _Rii_ , the Dovahkiin lifted her gaze back to him, flashing her teeth in a kind grin.

"Thank you for your help, Durnehviir. I'm not sure we would have gotten out of that alive without your assistance." Her eyes flickered to her companion, who was now frowning at her sullenly.

Durnehviir doubted that. _Qahnaarin_ was stronger than any Dovah he had ever known, even Alduin himself. She would have emerged victorious either way.

Grumbling in disagreement, Durnehviir gathered himself, stretching his long neck upward.

"Feel free to call upon me anytime, _Qahnaarin_. I savor these precious few moments that I spend in Tamriel." He could feel his strength waning. He needed to return to the Soul Cairn soon, or he would not exist long enough for her to summon him again.

Durnehviir breathed out noisily, his eyes shifting to the sky to admire its beauty once more. "I feel my time here drawing to an end. Farewell, _Qahnaarin._ "

Looking back to her, Durnehviir only caught a glance of her endearing wave goodbye, his world becoming swathed in a purple glow, and he was drug back into the clutches of the Ideal Masters.

* * *

Serana was not feeling as much of an urge as she usually would have to say _I told you so_ , as she stood at the top step of the Word Wall, her lips pressed together and her eyes glued to the back of the Dragonborn.

The woman was facing away from her, a pensive hand upon her blood-streaked chin as she scanned the draconic markings that stretched horizontally across the length of the wall, completely oblivious to her companion's glare.

Serana was upset, and she was not entirely sure why.

They were fine. The Ewer was still safe and full of the frozen water gathered from the Wayshrines they had visited, the two Dragons were defeated, the Dragonborn had discovered _two_ Words of Power, and neither of them had been injured.

Serana was upset with not herself, and definitely not with the Dragonborn... she was upset.. with the danger.

It was ridiculous.

The Dragonborn was more than capable to take care of herself, Serana knew this, but every time she watched her dodging arrows, swords, magic, or the snapping jaws of the occasional mythical beast, she could not stop the uncontrollable fear that dropped into her stomach like a stone.

There was always the possibility that someday she wouldn't be able to avoid the next arrow shot at her, or the next blade thrust at her, and she would die. Just like what happened in Volkihar courtyard.

 _That is life_. Her conscious reminded her, but Serana could not stop herself.

The Dragonborn was so important to Serana, she loved her so fiercely that keeping it to herself was beginning to ache, and the vampire was not sure whether the other woman _knew_ it or not.

Serana was terrified that when that one unlucky day came around again, the Dragonborn would leave her _without_ knowing. Serana could not bear the thought.

Dwelling on it right now would do neither of them any good, they still had a mission here. One more Wayshrine to visit, and they would have access to Auriel's Chantry at last.

Sighing, Serana shook her head briefly and returned her half-lidded eyes to the Dragonborn. "What is the Word of Power?"

The Dragonborn paused, the blood-splattered fingers she had been brushing reverently across the markings coming to a stop, as if she had forgotten that Serana was even there.

"It's.." Her form trembled a little, her tone strange and hollow. "It's the second word of the Drain Vitality Shout."

Struggling to stop herself from immediately coming to her side, Serana only quirked an eyebrow, leaning a little to the side trying to get a glimpse of the other woman's expression. "What?"

The Dragonborn looked over her shoulder, the half of the smile Serana could see upon her lips sad and painfully nostalgic. "Do you remember _Gaan_?"

 _Gaan.. Gaan? Stamina?_ The memory slammed into Serana like a charging Mammoth, and she jolted, her grip on the Ewer's handles tightening.

That was right, the Word of Power that the woman had learned from the Word Wall in Dimhollow Crypt.

Serana flushed with a similar poignant sense of longing for that time, that incredible day of her awakening when she first met the Dragonborn.

_Gods.. that feels like ages ago, now._

"We've.. come a long way since then, haven't we?" She murmured wistfully, locking eyes with the other woman as she twisted around to face Serana.

The Dragonborn approached her, stopping to stand by her side at the top step.

"Yes, yes we have." She spoke in reply, breaking away to peer across the shattered surface of the icy lake. Her earrings jingled delicately at the movement, and Serana let the familiar sound echo in her ears like the chime of a bell.

Serana did not join her in gazing out at the former battleground, choosing instead to keep her solemn gaze upon the side of her companion's face.

Her high cheekbones were splattered with red, eye lashes brushing her cheeks with every blink as the snow fluttered gently upon her, dotting her now-blood soaked hair with flecks of white. Poking out from beneath her locks, Serana could see the slightly pointed tips of her ears, those earrings swaying from them rhythmically.

She looked dreadful, actually, but not in the sense of that she was unsightly. She looked like an ax-murderer that had gotten a little too over zealous with their work, bathed almost head to toe in all that red... dreadful.. but to Serana, she could never be anything but beautiful.

Not to mention, the smell of the Dragon blood clinging to her was nearly enough to make Serana's mouth water.

The Dragonborn was practically beckoning Serana by her every sense.

Blind to the fond eyes upon her, the Dragonborn's chest swelled with a deep sigh, a pleasant curl to the corner of her mouth.

Past the blood, past the scars, past the hardness of her eyes that showed how well she knew suffering, she looked... contented at this moment.

She was loved. She was loved so dearly, and Serana wanted her to know it. She wanted her to know it right _now_.

An intense wave of frustration had suddenly gripped Serana in a suffocating hold, and her arms moved almost without her consent, to fling the Initiates Ewer to the nearest fluffy patch of snow. The container landed with a muffled clang, having broken through the drift and touched the stone.

The sharp sound was enough to make the Dragonborn whirl back around, eyes wide with alarm.

They looked to the discarded Ewer, then sought out Serana, darting across her face and filling with confusion when the Volkihar vampire kept her determined expression intact.

"Serana, wh-" The other woman began, but she clamped her lips shut when Serana stepped closer, planting her hands on each of her shoulders.

_I can't take this anymore. To hell with the consequences, to hell with it if she rejects me, I just want her to know._

"Please," Serana spoke, her voice wavering and anxiety building in her lungs. "Before we go any further.. I _have_ to say something."

The Dragonborn was looking back at her with such terrible bewilderment, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she closed them.

Grateful for her silence, as it gave it her a moment to steel her nerves, Serana tilted her head to the side and sighed:

"I can't keep pretending like.. like.." Her courage faltered halfway through her sentence, and Serana breathed in shakily. She felt another's hand closing around the top of her own, her right one, still resting on the Dragonborn's shoulder.

There was something electrifying about the contact, but not in the usual way, it was comforting more than anything. The Dragonborn always had this strange gentleness to her movements when it involved Serana.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, Serana went on, "I _need_ to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Her tone was so even, calm enough to irritate Serana a little. She was currently drowning in her anticipation and the Dragonborn was as clueless as she'd always been.

Well, no turning back now. The words were just burning on the tip of Serana's tongue, the very same words she had confessed to herself countless times before, how would speaking them aloud be any more different?

She forced her eyes to return to the Dragonborn's, smothering any last spark of fear from her mind.

"I-I need to tell you.. that.." Her voice caught again, and Serana cleared her throat daintily. "..That I love you."

She shut her mouth firmly after the accursed words finally passed her lips, to keep herself from rambling. She'd embarrassed herself quite enough already, she felt.

The Dragonborn's expression was frighteningly blank for a moment, and Serana might just have been able to hear her own unbeating heart begin to crack, before the woman blinked.

"Oh," She breathed out, her tone something of pleasant surprise, then she gave Serana a soft smile that nearly melted her on the spot. "Oh," She repeated, "I know that, Serana."

 _Huh?_ She _knew_ that?

Her entire body numbed, Serana thought she step backward and let her hands slip off of the Dragonborn's shoulders, but her right one remained lifted in the other woman's.

"Yes, I love you too, Serana." The Dragonborn nodded lightly, as if the powerful words needed anymore confirmation.

Had it really.. been this easy? She just had to say it, and.. this...

"Oh.. um.." Serana was speechless, and more than a little spellbound at this turn of events.

 _She_ does _know, and she_ does _feel the same._

An unruly mouth painting her lips, Serana willed herself to walk out of her daze, and focus on the Dragonborn.

"I just-" Her words were cut short, as she was pulled closer by the strong arms that had suddenly wrapped around her. Blinking quickly, Serana peered dully out across the broken lake, her cheek pressed to the Dragonborn's chest. Their differing heights made it slightly awkward, Serana having to bend to be in this position, but she could hardly complain about that.

The Dragonborn chuckled airily, and Serana felt every vibration as her own arms moved automatically to complete the embrace. "Usually you're the one reducing _me_ to a stuttering mess, what happened, Serana?"

Serana's smile made its return, a pleasant feeling upon her own lips. "I didn't stand a chance this time," She sighed into the other woman, "The way you so brazenly speak your mind, it's blinding."

The Dragonborn laughed softly once more, her hold loosening so that they could drift apart. "I thought I already told you what an emotional mess I am, but I do believe," She frowned thoughtfully, an eyebrow raised, "I owe you a kiss, don't I?"

Ah, Serana imagined that had it been beating in the first place, her heart would have skipped just then. Was this a dream? This had to be a dream. She was still slumbering in that dusty old sarcophagus inside Dimhollow Crypt, left by her mother to sleep for all eternity with nothing but an Elder Scroll for company.

"Yes," She spoke breathlessly in return, "I believe you do."

Somewhere inbetween the clouds and the frozen earth beneath them, Serana felt the Dragonborn's hand on the back of her neck, pulling them closer until their lips met.

If this _was_ a dream, it was the most vivid one Serana had ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Writing from a dragon's perspective has been neat.**
> 
> **We're finally here, 20 something chapters and 100,000 words in and we get to the I-love-yous. I really enjoyed writing this, I feel like it has just the right amount of feels and gore to make it perfect. Can anyone believe that I don't actually _like_ romance?**
> 
> **Anyway, next up on this four part section of the story: they FINALLY get to the Chantry. Serana has some badly made Falmer bridges to criticize.**


	25. Touching the Sky Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Auri-El turned his back on me. I swore I'd have my revenge, no matter what the cost."―Vyrthur_

The sound of the crackling fire echoed throughout the massive cavern along with the rush of a nearby waterfall and the purring stream that it poured into.

It gave off a rather soothing warmth, a warmth that Serana could not generate herself anymore.

They didn't need the light, and they didn't need the warmth, but the campfire provided a feeling of coziness in the middle of this practically bottomless crevice. Serana could barely see the top, where the walls parted to show a sliver of the darkening sky. At least it was spacious, so she could not complain about that, but it was so large that getting lost might prove to be a problem later on.

For now, though, she was going to get as much rest as she could, because she and the Dragonborn had just carved their way through an entire canyon of Falmer. Her entire body was aching, from both the sunlight and the cuts and bruises she had gained during that fight.

Honestly, it had felt like the Falmer were just crawling out of the cracks in the mountainside that entire journey to the Glacial Crevice. They had archer towers, tripwire traps, claw traps, ambushes, and _mages_ too. There had even been a Snow Giant, kept in some flimsy pen made of Chaurus-chitin that was promptly destroyed the second she and the Dragonborn had come too close.

It had felt like there was going to be no end to them, but of course she and Dragonborn had managed to fight their way out alive. It had taken the entire afternoon, whatever was left of the day after the "incident" on the frozen lake spent on traversing the Falmer-infested canyon.

Exhaling, and feeling the fatigue in her very lungs, Serana's tired red eyes drifted downward. She was too drained to even feel all that giddy about the kiss, _the_ kiss she had sought after for months. It was a shame, really.

At the moment she was practically curled into the Dragonborn's side, her knees to her chest and her arms crossed. The other woman's arm was wrapped around her, her hand resting on Serana's shoulder. They leaned against a blue-white ridge of ice, facing the underground creek with the fire between them. The Dragonborn's sword laid in its sheathe off to Serana's right, The Initiate's Ewer next to it, its silver surface glistening in the flickering light.

That stupid Ewer. She'd almost drowned, been stabbed, and shot at for that thing.

The vampire cast a scornful glance its way, but too tired to waste effort on being pissed off, she sighed and sunk a little further into the Dragonborn.

The other woman was quiet. She had been quiet for quite a while now. Serana couldn't tell how long they had been here, how long it had been since they limped through the opening of the Glacial Crevice and collapsed right here. Perhaps she was asleep.

She had been gazing directly into the dancing orange-yellow flames of the fire, and they had branded themselves onto the backs of her eyelids when Serana blinked, and looked to the Dragonborn.

The woman's eyes were closed, the back of her head supported by the wall of ice behind them. She was as still and poised as a statue, but her chest rose and fell periodically, so she must have been conscious.

Serana immediately felt a smile forming, as her eyes began roaming over the unaware woman's face.

The both of them had gotten pretty cut up during the fight with the Falmer, but of course, being the magnet for danger and glutton for punishment that she was, the Dragonborn was in worse shape.

Her armor was covered with slashes in the metal from her chest to her middle, and one Falmer had managed to break the leather strap to her left gauntlet, so it was missing, lost to the snow somewhere back in the canyon.

More noticeable than that, on her cheek there was a cut. It wasn't bleeding anymore, thankfully, but it was remarkably red against her pale skin. It was also shallow, so hopefully it would fade with time. If not, well, that was another scar to add to her collection, Serana supposed.

The Dragonborn had more than enough scars already.

Breathing out through her nose, Serana's eyes drifted a little further upward. Over the woman's right eyelid there was pale, vertical mark, stretching from her brow to below her eye. Serana remembered that one, the Dragonborn had gotten it in the Volkihar Courtyard, before...

Serana hadn't realized that she had untangled her arms and reached out with her hand, until she found herself looking at her own fingers taking hold of the Dragonborn's chin. She followed through with the motion, gently tilting the woman's head away from her to expose the side of her neck. The Dragonborn didn't open her eyes, but the vampire saw one of her brows twitch.

Right there, a little beneath her jaw, there was a set of red dots.

Serana then realized that not giving words with this sudden touch might be a little strange for the Dragonborn.

"You are getting quite the assortment of scars from this little adventure." She commented in a subdued voice, her throat stinging. Gods, even her vocal chords were sore?

The Dragonborn hummed in acknowledgement, and before she began to speak, Serana let her fingers fall away to rest her hand in the woman's lap.

"Mhm.. but they do give me some look of prestige though, don't they?" The woman's tone was playful, but she did not smile, only one corner of her mouth quirked.

Serana chuckled softly, but it hurt too much to keep up for long.

"Oh, definitely." She agreed, readjusting her arms back into their positions over her chest.

That was certainly one way of looking at it. The Dragonborn never seemed ashamed of the many scars all over her, she was just.. indifferent about them. Serana had known several women in the Volkihar Court who would rather wear bags over their heads for the rest of their lives before letting anyone see any sort of facial blemish.

Those women were hardly worthy enough to be compared to the Dragonborn, though. The Dragonborn was not consumed by petty vanity and greed.

Serana felt a yawn coming on, and she used one of her hands to cover her mouth. Blinking as it passed, the vampire sighed, and closed her eyes.

"I'm.." She started, her fingers now resting on the bridge of her nose to work on the pressure points there. "I'm going to try to get some sleep." She stated, letting her hand fall and opening her eyes. She looked at the side of the Dragonborn's face, frowning hard enough that she wanted to the woman to feel it.

"Please, tell me you're going to at least try." Serana demanded in a scolding, but equally affectionate tone.

"Already halfway there, Serana." The Dragonborn answered airily, the corner of her mouth quirking again.

"Oh, good," Serana huffed, and grinning to herself, the vampire picked herself off of the wall to lean upward and plant a kiss on the woman's cheek, right over her newly-acquired cut. It earned her a real smile this time, Serana saw as she pulled away, and satisfied, she settled herself back into the woman's side.

Hopefully rest would find them both easier, now.

* * *

The crackle of the fire was no longer there, when Serana regained consciousness what felt like hours later. The waterfall continued to rush from the mountainside, splashing into the underground body of water, and the occasional shard of ice broke from the walls and crashed into the ground below.

Other than that, it was silent, serenely so.

Serana kept her eyes closed, but she was awake enough to remember where she was now. Still curled into the Dragonborn's side, her head resting in the crook of the woman's neck. There was no reassuring heartbeat pulsing against her, but the woman's scent consumed her senses, and that was soothing enough.

Oh, she was unfairly comfortable right now, but they still had one last Wayshrine to visit and an ancient Elven God's legendary weapon to recover.

Parting her lips, Serana exhaled heavily and forced her eyes to open.

The muted colors of the icy walls greeted her, tinted greyish due to the absence of the sunlight that had been pouring into the crevice earlier.

The vampire's gaze drifted lazily from the other side of the cavern to the pile of ashes in front of her. The fire had burned itself out, and it seemed to be past dusk now. She must have slept for quite a while, but it certainly didn't feel like it. She felt as terrible as she had before she went to sleep.

"Ugh," Serana complained softly, closing her eyes as she straightened herself. She had such a crick in her neck now, she realized sullenly, as she pawed blindly at her shoulder where she felt the Dragonborn's arm draped over her. She found the woman's wrist, and successfully untangled herself.

The Dragonborn began to stir as Serana gently set her arm back to her side, and the vampire climbed to her feet.

Serana chuckled as she turned her back to the woman, and heard her following groan of protest. She paced around the spent campfire to work the grogginess out of her, stretching and tilting her head back as she walked.

The glacial crevice was massive, and far above her Serana could see the starry sky. The crescent moon barely peeked over the jagged edges of the cavern's opening.

So it was night, that was a relief. Fighting the Falmer would be a lot less taxing without the sunlight generally making every step of the way hell for them.

The Dragonborn let out another muffled sound of protest from the ground, and smiling, Serana threw a glance her way. She was cradling her head in one of her palms, the other pressed to the ice behind her.

Despite herself, the vampire laughed lowly at the woman's difficultly to collect herself. There were usually two ways that the Dragonborn woke: alert and ready for anything, or dead to the world and struggling to see the light.

This was obviously the second, as the woman was clearly fighting just to get her eyes open.

"Having some trouble, there?" Serana asked wryly, her arms bent behind her head.

What she received in reply was a yawn almost soft enough to be considered a sigh, and the sound of the Dragonborn slapping her own cheek lightly with her palm.

With a grunt, the Dragonborn finally pushed herself off the wall and stood, using her fingers to brush her bangs out of the way. Blinking, Serana noticed that the cut on her cheek had already dulled to nothing more than a discolored mark on her skin.

"Are you feeling any better?" Serana asked her less drolly, letting her arms lower back to her sides.

One of her palms pressed to the side of her face, the Dragonborn looked at her with weary eyes.

"Serana, my bruises have bruises." She complained in deadpan.

Serana laughed slightly beneath her breath at the woman's misery, and pivoted herself around to face her. As she strode toward her, the vampire leaned down to sweep the Dragonborn's silver sword off the ground.

"Oh, you'll live." She assured her, pressing the sheathed weapon into her grasp. Cupping the other woman's hands in her own, the sword between them, Serana delivered a quick kiss to the side of her mouth.

"You know," The Dragonborn began as she pulled back, and Serana took in her rather vacant expression curiously. "Your dagger was digging into my side the whole time we were sitting here."

 _Asshole._ Serana thought fondly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Why couldn't she just appreciate Serana's affections instead of deflecting it with banter? In fact, the woman hadn't become flustered over Serana's closeness and tendency to indulge herself at all after their confessions on that frozen lake. She hadn't been able to get a rise out of her _once_ since then. It was really no fun.

"Oh _boohoo_ ," The vampire drawled, slipping her hands free of the sword to throw them upward. "Is there anything else you want to complain about before we go?" She huffed as she stepped backward, moving around what remained of their campfire to approach the Ewer.

"Now that you mention it.." The Dragonborn hummed behind her as Serana reached for the glorified bucket. "Your snoring was pretty loud. It's no wonder every Falmer in this cavern didn't come for us..."

" _Really?_ " Serana hissed through her teeth, a smirk upon her lips. She straightened her back, and heard the Dragonborn's footsteps over the ice as she came closer. The other woman reached her side as the vampire turned her head towards her, and she tucked the Ewer into the crook of her arm.

"That is _not_ true." Serana growled, swatting at the Dragonborn's shoulder with her free hand.

The Dragonborn recoiled from the hit, laughing quietly as she fastened the sheathe of her sword to her waist.

It was all in good fun, Serana knew, and they both shared a doting smile before abandoning the pile of ashes and following the bank of the underground stream. It led them steadily upward, the tunnel opening into a larger chamber of the cavern.

Serana heard the Dragonborn yawn again as they walked, her earrings chiming as she shook her head back and forth in an attempt to rattle the sleepiness from her.

The vampire was gazing upward as she went on, blinking into the velvety blackness of the sky that she could see from where they were. She could also make out several holes in the cavern walls, and what looked like bridges connecting ridges to each other. Those were probably creations of the Falmer, which meant that there were more of them in here, somewhere.

Serana sighed, returning her gaze straight ahead to make sure she wasn't about to step right off a cliff or something. She wasn't, thankfully, and she jolted a little when she spotted the Dragonborn ahead of her.

The trail they were taking was at the edge of a pool of water, and the Dragonborn was right at the bank now, standing in place with her head tipped back.

She was grumbling to herself as Serana padded toward her, one of her hands rubbing the back of her neck.

"This fucking sucks." The woman declared.

Serana skidded to a stop, her still-groggy mind trying to figure out whether she had heard her correctly.

The Dragonborn was not a woman of many words, and when she did speak you listened, because you knew it would be something important. Serana had never heard her talk so colloquially, at least, not in a language that she could understand.

"Eloquently put." Serana replied after the initial surprise had passed, smiling.

The vampire barely swallowed her laughter, when she saw the momentary look of shock that flashed across the Dragonborn's face. " _I said that aloud?_ " She muttered almost inaudibly, then louder: "Sorry."

Serana couldn't stop herself after that, chuckling and hugging the Initiates Ewer to her chest. "It's cute as all hell that you feel the need to apologize for cursing."

The Dragonborn appeared rather bashful, bringing her arm back down and kicking at the frost-covered ground underneath them with the toe of her boot. "It's not.. necessary, really."

Serana quirked an eyebrow. "You've been swearing in Dunmeri in my presence since the day we met."

The other woman pursed her lips, flippantly waving her hand. "Yes, but you can't understand me when I do that."

But they were still curses, Serana understood _that_. She was such a damn hypocrite.

The vampire bared her teeth in a grin, tilting her head.

"I _used_ to not be able to. By now I've picked up plenty of them:" Leaning down, she set the Ewer onto the ground by her feet, and splayed her right hand out. Using her left index finger, Serana listed on each of her others the Dunmeri swear words that she could remember, speaking every one of them aloud.

When she was finished, she turned to the Dragonborn with a proud smirk.

The woman looked slightly mortified, and Serana was beginning to wonder what meaning the crude words she had just been spouting off had.

"Okay," The vampire rolled her eyes blithely when the Dragonborn was silent for too long, her mouth opening and closing like a beached Slaughterfish. "The point I'm trying to make here is that you don't have to be ashamed about cursing in front of me. We have plenty of reasons to swear right now. This whole situation ' _fucking sucks_ ' as you said." She performed air quotes with her fingers for the last part.

The Dragonborn contemplated this, the shocked expression she wore fading. "Yes.. it does."

She then raised one one her hands to cover her mouth, as if she were trying to suppress a smile.

"Ah, _wow_ , Serana," She snorted, "That was possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen-" She inhaled very sharply, and that hand drifted upward so that the Dragonborn could use the heel of her palm to wipe at the corner of her eye. "-Or heard I should say."

 _Look at her, she's glowing!_ Serana felt her smile grow, and she joined in with a melodic chuckle of her own. Still, this left her curiosity to know what _exactly_ she had said even hungrier.

"I'm so glad I could help," Serana offered graciously, reaching for the Ewer that she had left in the snow. Wrapping her arms around it, Serana peered past the woman to the ridges towering above them. "Are you ready to go now?"

The Dragonborn nodded at her, her eyes squinted because of that blissful little look. Serana wouldn't have minded to see her like this more often.

They had not been walking for long, climbing up the steadily sloping hill of snow and ice, when the Dragonborn stopped, grabbed Serana by the shoulder, and pulled the both of them down behind a slab of frost-covered stone.

Serana deposited the Ewer back to the ground as the Dragonborn peeked over their cover, already preparing her magic. She did not need to ask why they had hid themselves; they had reached the waterfall that was the source of the underground pool, and ahead of them was a decrepit-looking bridge stretched over the space between two cliffs. Behind their barriers, a couple of Falmer were skulking back and forth with bows clutched in their spidery fingers.

"There's only two." The Dragonborn whispered to her, retreating fully behind the stone. "Think you can hit them?"

Of course she could. Without a word, Serana pushed herself to her feet, her closed fist seeping mist. Narrowing her eyes, the vampire scanned the ridges for her target.

 _There._ A Falmer stood alone at the other side of the bridge, its lanky form heaving with each breath. It was looking straight at her, a helmet made of Chaurus pincers covering the majority of its bat-like face. It was blind, and Serana didn't so much as blink at its thousand-yard stare as she lifted her clenched hand.

The vampire threw her arm forward, and whistling through the frigid air, her ice spike plunged right into the unaware creature's head, shattering its helmet to pieces. A splatter of blood painted the ice-white wall behind it as the Falmer collapsed, its bow slipping from its grip and dropping into the pool of water below.

The second Falmer was alerted now, and apparently it had pinpointed her position because it raised its weapon, and drew an arrow back in the string.

" _Shit_!" Serana hissed, quickly ducking back behind their cover. The Falmer's arrow splintered to pieces when it struck the stone, and the shards rained over the woman next to her.

The Dragonborn grumbled at the fragments of Chaurus chitin that had peppered her, and used her fingers to brush them from her hair.

Serana flinched when the next arrow pinged into the rock above them, and glanced at the other woman from the corner of her eye with another ice spike forming in her palm.

"I'll distract it so you can get another shot." The Dragonborn said to her at normal volume, because there wasn't really much of a need to be quiet anymore.

The vampire watched the woman stand, pulling her silver sword free. She vaulted herself over the stone, purposely banging the edge of her weapon's blade over it to produce a loud clang. The Falmer's head jerked her way, and with a _twang_ of its bow's thread, it let loose an arrow.

Serana released her ice spike at the same moment, but she didn't wait to see where she had hit the creature, more concerned with the trajectory of the arrow it had let fly. She heard the squelch of the spear of ice making impact, and the Falmer's croak, but she snapped her head around to look to the Dragonborn instead.

With one swing of her blade, the woman severed the projectile in half, its tail end and arrowhead spiraling off in different directions.

Letting out a relieved breath, Serana focused on the Falmer again. She had caught it right in the shoulder, so it wasn't dead quite yet, but it was stumbling like a drunkard dangerously close to the edge of the cliff it was on. Not one staggering step later, the miserable creature was toppling over the side of the ridge, its screeching echoing harshly in the wide cavern until it met the water with a powerful splash.

" _Hmph_." The Dragonborn remarked shortly in amusement, sliding her sword back into its sheathe.

Serana agreed silently, inwardly praising her own aim as she started after the the woman, who was now approaching the bridge that led over the underground body of water.

They both stopped just at the beginning of it, the Dragonborn with a hand to her chin, and Serana with hers propped on her hips.

"What a terrible looking bridge," The vampire scoffed, inclining her chin somewhat haughtily. "About what I'd expect from creatures like this."

"Hmm," The Dragonborn uttered thoughtfully next to her. "I think they were going more for functionality than style."

Bringing the pad of her right thumb to her lips, Serana smiled beneath it. "It doesn't even look all that functional, either."

"I didn't realize you were an architect, Serana." The Dragonborn retorted jokingly.

"I'm not," Serana simpered back, "But if it looks safe to you, then by all means, you first." She gestured with open palms towards the swaying Falmer-made bridge.

The Dragonborn clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth in response, and tested her weight on the walkway with one foot. When it didn't immediately crumble underneath her, her shoulders bounced with a shrug, and she strode across it without issue.

"Oh, look at that, I'm alive." She called from the other side.

Huffing, Serana waved her hand dismissively, and walked across the bridge after her.

They climbed a zigzagged trail lined with the railings that the Falmer had constructed, and at the end a gate made of Chaurus legs awaited them. Passing through it, it led them into a tunnel with icicles hanging from its ceiling. It was not long, as Serana could see the end of it the second they entered. At the foot of the opening, however, there was an obvious black line, a tripwire.

The vampire stopped, the Dragonborn doing the same.

Serana could feel the other woman's eyes on her, and she pursed her lips as she readied an ice spike. Its end pierced into the frozen ground, snapping the taunt wire apart.

A pair of wicked looking claws sprung from the walls, their mechanisms groaning as they stabbed into empty air, and retreated back in place.

"They're much better at making traps than bridges, apparently." The vampire said, her tone drenched in dry, sarcastic approval.

The Dragonborn inhaled as if she had been planning to say something in return, but she hesitated. Her humor draining from her, Serana turned her eyes upon the woman and found her with her ear tilted toward the end of the tunnel.

Serana could pick up the crunch of footsteps over the snow and ragged, shallow breathing. A Falmer must have heard the trap go off, and was coming to investigate.

The Dragonborn broke into a grin, a positively devilish one at that.

Blinking in bewilderment, Serana only watched as the woman hurried toward the end of the tunnel to meet the approaching creature.

" _Fus Ro Dah_!" The deafening Shout cracked the air like a roll of thunder, and Serana flinched as it drummed in her head.

The terrified howl of the Falmer followed, growing fainter and fainter the further it fell into the abyssal chasm that the ledge bordered.

The vampire sighed, her eyes closed in hope of calming the ringing in her ears.

"Nice." She said simply, and the Dragonborn's laugh rang out.

* * *

The gathered water from the final Wayshrine sloshed inside the Initiates Ewer, swirling over the hardened layer of ice that had formed within the container.

The Dragonborn peered down into elegantly carved vessel as she walked, catching brief flashes of her own image in its crystal clear surface. The moon provided just enough light that she could see her own red eyes flickering back at her over the rippling water.

_"Have I ever mentioned how strange it is that your eyes glow in the dark?"_

_Serana snapped them shut, and the two miniature suns that had been boring into her were extinguished._

_"No, I don't believe you have." The vampire had replied._

Serana's eyes were beautiful, the Dragonborn had been thinking at that moment. They were beautiful like a raging wildfire or violent thunderstorm was beautiful, all raw power and with a hint of danger that intrigued you.

She had been quite intoxicated that night, and her thoughts had been no doubt looser and racier than they were now, but the Dragonborn's opinion had not changed after all this time. They had not changed even when those intense, wolfish eyes stared back at her whenever she dared to look directly at any kind of reflective area.

A vampire's eyes were.. terrifying. She was terrifying. Perhaps she had been before, with her taciturn disposition and cold practicality, but now, she truly was a woman to be feared.

Was it... was it _wrong_ that this newfound strength sent a thrill through her?

She was the _Dragonborn_ , a dragon-slayer of Nord legend. People revered her, her enemies feared her, and even most of Alduin's listless following had submitted to her after the defeat of their master. If she had so desired, she could have even decided the political fate of all of Skyrim, by supporting either the Empire or the Stormcloaks.

And now.. she could feel it, the physical and magical potential burning in her bones, begging to be released. She could probably crush a man's skull with nothing but her bare hand, or stop the swing of a greatsword with just her index finger and thumb. She was mightier than she would have ever thought possible, even having harnessed the power of the Thu'um beforehand. It was _exhilarating_.

She was no longer the helpless, mewling little slave girl she had been so long ago.

"Wow..." A fanciful, wonderfully familiar voice gasped next to her, and blinking, the Dragonborn lifted her eyes from the contents of the Ewer to look ahead. The expanse of a frosted stone bridge stretched before her, leading to an impressive temple tucked in the mountainside.

A delicate blanket of snowflakes blew sideways in the wind, the specks of ice gathering in her hair and on her armor. The breeze was pleasant, the biting cold that would have once had her complaining like a caviling child no longer able to affect her.

"I've never seen a building like that before." Serana went on in that whimsical way of hers, and the Dragonborn stole a sideways glance at her fellow vampire.

She strolled in step with the Dragonborn, her empty hands held at her chest and clasped together. She had eyes only for the approaching Chantry of Auriel, admiring every sharp, grand, and graceful curve of its structure.

The Dragonborn felt a gentle smile painting her mouth at the heart-warming sight.

Serana's unconventional love for anything ancient and/or as magnificent as this half-buried relic of a temple was endearing. She seemed to delight in anything new, and the Dragonborn loved the eagerness to learn that lit up her expression at the prospect of such discoveries.

The Dragonborn loved _her_. Everything about Serana, she just... cherished it. Things like her smile, whether they were coy or benign, or her boundless wit and sarcasm that even the sharpest of tongues could not match. Serana had given her this power, and the Dragonborn had no intentions of wasting it.

She did not reply, but Serana didn't seem to mind, content to muse to herself the rest of the way to the end of the bridge. What awaited them was a set of stairs, their edges completely covered with tiny icicles. The two women climbed the small flight, and stepped through a small arch that led them into the front courtyard of the Chantry.

Brown, brittle grass crunched beneath their feet as she and Serana stopped at the foot of the imposing statue that greeted them. It glinted bronze in the low glow of the crescent moon, its face too frost-coated and far up to be able to discern its features. Still, she was able to determine that the statue was a man, with a narrow-looking frame and slender fingers that held up an arch with a sun emblem in its center. A small brazier pulsed an odd, chilling blue at his feet.

"That's.. a statue of Auriel," Serana told her, with that characteristic fascination in her voice. "...But it's using his old signs of power. This place _really_ is ancient."

The Dragonborn made sure to make some soft sound of acknowledgement, so not to appear uninterested. Still, she said nothing, tilting her head back to observe the towering statue of the Elven god with more scrutiny.

Icicles hung from Auriel's arms, and just about anywhere else that they could form; the statue was in a similar state as the whole temple: buried in freshly fallen snow and weighed down with ice.

"Well, come on then. As much as I'd like to, we can't spend all our time here sightseeing." Serana sighed, no longer at her side, but instead somewhere to her right. The Dragonborn's gaze fell from the likeness of Auriel to search for her, and found the other woman already climbing the right staircase that led to the entrance of the Chantry.

Tightening her grip on the Ewer's handles, the Dragonborn broke into a jog to catch up, taking two steps at a time after Serana.

The threshold of the temple was interesting to her, and so Serana was twice as captivated with it.

Lines were carved into the snow-speckled stone, leading from a chalice at the edge of the balcony into the shadow-shrouded dome with the entrance to the temple at its back. The same sun emblem that Auriel's statue had been displaying was etched into the floor, the lines connecting to its points.

"We're supposed to pour the water we've gathered into that basin, there." Attracted to her voice, the Dragonborn tore her eyes away from the exquisitely-designed double doors of Auriel's Chantry to her companion. Serana was pointing a finger at the chalice, but she was about bent over backward looking upward at the top of the dome.

Amused by her antics, the Dragonborn chuckled lowly as she carried the Ewer toward the end of the balcony. She stepped around it, so that she faced the entrance to the temple, and lifted the container, before jerking to a stop. The water was no longer splashing around inside, the water from the fifth Wayshrine had hardened already.

"The water's is frozen.. though." She reminded the other woman, and Serana twirled around from where she had been marveling at the sophisticated pattern engraved into the door to meet her eyes.

The vampire gazed at her pensively for a few seconds, then tapped her chin with her index finger. "Heat it up with your fire magic, it will melt."

 _Oh, right._ Wow, she felt like an idiot now.

Sliding her hands off the Ewer's handles, the Dragonborn splayed her palms over its round middle, and summoned her destruction magic. Orange flames licked at the metal from underneath her hands, and soon, after giving the container an experimental shake, the ice had thawed.

"Better be quick, before it freezes again." Serana piped up cheerily, and huffing, the Dragonborn tipped the Initiates Ewer over above the basin.

The water rushed out of it, pooling into the chalice and being sucked down into the hole at its bottom. Hastily setting the now empty bucket to the stone, the Dragonborn tracked the water's progress as it trailing through the lines in the floor, heading toward the sun carving.

Serana had been standing right over the crest, and she shuffled backward to stand behind it, observing along with the Dragonborn as the liquid filled the decal to the brim. Moments later, the water lit up a phosphorescent green, and Serana gasped sharply as a beam of light the same color shot upward from their feet to the large gem resting in the ceiling of the dome.

The Chantry's door groaned as the inside of the arch was bathed in a soft green, its gears and tumblers creaking, and Auriel's sun symbol spinning in its center. With one final, loud click, the double door began to part inward, grating on their aged hinges.

It revealed a darkened passageway, no torches or natural light shining from within. After sharing a glance, Serana's shining with mirth, the Dragonborn's placid, but slightly intrigued, they stepped through the doorway.

After venturing down a long tunnel, another door appeared in the ice-coated wall of the temple. Instantly after passing through it, Serana yelped in alarm and the Dragonborn darted to towards her to place her hands on the other woman's shoulders.

A Falmer stood before them, completely covered in ice, its thin fingers wrapped around a bottle of healing solution. Next to the creature was a Chaurus, also encased in frost with a pendant hanging from one of its open pincers.

Conducting a brief survey of the room that the door had opened into, the Dragonborn could see other frozen silhouettes scattered around, and they all were holding various items, swords, maces, potions, and jewelry.

"Urgh," Serana groaned, her fingers closing around the Dragonborn's hand that rested over her shoulder. "That scared the hell out of me," She groused, looking about the room as the Dragonborn had just done. "Why are they all like this..?"

To punish greedy adventurers, the Dragonborn guessed. There were very powerful enchantments at work here. Disturbing the frozen creatures was _not_ a smart idea.

"Don't.. don't touch anything. This is almost too cliché." She told Serana lowly, sliding her hand free of the other woman's grip and stepping away from her back.

"Take something and they all come to life kind of cliché?" Her companion inquired as the Dragonborn moved past her, further into the room. She could see another door at the other side of this morbid maze of frozen Falmer.

Throwing a look backward, the Dragonborn saw Serana leaning into the face of the nearest ice figure, her red eyes tracing along the blade of the iron sword it held. She used one of her fingers to poke at the Falmer's forehead.

"Stop dawdling," The Dragonborn huffed, grabbing the icy curve of the doorway she stood in. "We need to find the Bow, and we still have to deal with Vyrthur, too." She made a beckoning motion with her other hand, and Serana flashed a smile as she abandoned the Falmer and trotted toward her.

"Oh, dig out a possibly non-existent godly weapon in this gigantic temple _and_ defeat a timeless Snow Elf Paladin?" The vampire quipped with enthusiasm that bordered on manic, squeezing past the Dragonborn and throwing her hands upward. " _Piece of cake_!" Serana declared, her alluring voice ricocheting loudly across the Chantry's walls.

* * *

It was not a "piece of cake". The Dragonborn was certain that Serana was eating those words when the ceiling had begun to crumble overhead, shards of granite and ice slamming into the ground all around them.

It turns out that Vyrthur was actually a vampire, turned by one of the Chapel's initiates ages ago. He had stewed in his bitterness and madness for centuries, creating the Tyranny of the Sun prophecy out of pure spite for his God, Auri-El.

Seeing as that prophecy had effectively torn her family apart, Serana had been none too pleased with this revelation.

After she lunged forward to hurl her fist into the magical wall of ice separating the vampires from each other, Vyrthur released his horde of frozen Falmer and Chaurus upon them.

His swarm was made quick work of, while Vyrthur, the damn coward, hid behind his ice barrier. He had collapsed the ceiling of the cavern in a fit of blind rage, and while she and Serana dodged falling rubble, he had leaped from his throne of ice and was darting toward the hole that had been blasted into the wall, leading outside.

"Come on!" Serana shouted over the racket of the shuddering mountain, her hand wrapping firmly around the Dragonborn's wrist. The other woman yanked her forward, and the Dragonborn nearly lost purchase on the rumbling ground as she stumbled after her.

They sprinted through the crater in the tunnel's wall, the early dawn light washing over them as the two women crossed onto the balcony of the Inner Chapel that overlooked the entire Vale. Mist obscured the neighboring mountainsides, the fog that gathered on the balcony pierced by the morning sun.

Vyrthur, with nowhere left to run, spun around on his heels to face them, teeth bared, his red eyes smoldering and wild like a cornered animal's.

"Enough, Vyrthur. Give us the Bow!" Serana barked frigidly as she dragged the Dragonborn along with her towards him, her voice raw with unbridled fury.

"How dare you!" The Snow Elf spat at her, backing away the closer the two women came. His waist met with the stone railing separating him from a long drop into the canyon below. "I was the Arch-Curate of Auri-El, girl. I had the ears of a god!"

Serana let out a bitter, succinct hiss that was analogous to the Dragonborn of a enraged Dragon preparing to unleash its destructive Thu'um upon some pest.

"Until the _Betrayed_ corrupted you. Yes, yes. We've already suffered through your sad story!-" She let the Dragonborn's hand loose, and heaving due to fading adrenaline, the woman let Serana leave her behind to stalk up to Vyrthur alone. "Honestly, I've had enough of you!"

Serana's arm lashed out like a serpent, her fingers closing around the Snow Elf's throat, and she easily raised him off of his feet. The Dragonborn observed with vague trepidation as the woman she could only picture as nothing but compassionate, witty, and prideful shoved the man right over the railing of the balcony.

She only watched, a little aghast, as Vyrthur's arms flailed, his body careening over the edge. He was still a vampire just as they were, however, and the former Arch-Curate managed to catch one of the vertical bars of the railing at the last second, his skin slapping against it harshly.

Serana lurched toward him again, this time throwing the toe of her boot down on the fingers of the man's other hand that he was attempting to thread through the poles to find a better grip.

Vyrthur hissed, his face barely visible over the side the balcony from where the Dragonborn stood.

"You created the Tyranny of the Sun out of _contempt_ , frivolous rancor. That prophecy drove my father to madness, that prophecy ruined my family!" Serana growled furiously, leaning over the writhing man. "I hope your god is a forgiving one." She seethed with a burning, glacial intensity, drawing her foot back.

Serana drove her boot directly into Vyrthur's nose before he could so much as spit in retaliation. The Snow Elf's head snapped backward violently, and his hold upon the railing was freed. He fell silently, having been knocked unconscious by the impact, and the Dragonborn was secretly thankful for that small mercy, that he would perish at last without having to suffer any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **When Serana picked Vyrthur up like he was nothing in the game I was all: "YES GIRL GET HIM!" I wanted to see her toss him over the railing, but of course that would have been too easy a boss fight. Instead we just fucking obliterated him within seconds with spells and my enchanted Daedric sword.**


	26. Old Allegiances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With Auriel's Bow in our possession, it's time to confront Harkon... but Serana and I cannot take Castle Volkihar on our own. We need the Dawnguard. Somehow, we need to convince Isran to set his hate aside and help us. I hope he is willing to see reason._

"So, _that's_ Auriel's Bow? I expected it to be... shinier." Serana commented dryly from the fallen log she sat upon, her chin resting in the palm of her right hand.

She was hunched over, her legs crossed, her elbow balancing on her knee, and a dull headache threatening to start by spiking into her temple. She was angry. She was tired. The early morning sun that was now drilling into her back certainly didn't do anything to alleviate either of these issues.

The Dragonborn stood a little ways away from her, holding the legendary weapon by its grip and rotating it around as she observed it. She used her bare fingers to trace along its sharp curves, a blank expression on her face.

In all honesty, Serana had been expecting more. Auriel's Bow looked like a modest Elven longbow, not the mighty weapon that it was described to be. She _had_ felt its power, however, the moment she had retrieved it herself back in the Forgotten Vale, after defeating... Vyrthur.

 _Vyrthur_. He was the source of her foul mood at the moment.

To think, her family had been torn apart by some bitter Auri-El follower, by his pettiness and rage. The prophecy her father had lost himself in had been real, and it had been created out of _spite_ for an Elven God. Serana couldn't decide who she was more pissed off with at this point, Vyrthur, or Harkon.

Harkon had never been the best father, but if Vyrthur had not spun that prophecy, would he be any better now? Would he still be the haughty, highly egotistical man he had been before discovering the Tyranny of the Sun, or would have have found something completely different to obsess over and ultimately ruin their family?

The vampire sighed, closing her weary eyes.

There was no use mulling over the _what ifs_. What had been done had been done. There was no changing anything now.. but killing Vyrthur herself had been very therapeutic. Serana could at least take some satisfaction in that.

She opened her eyes when she sensed movement. The Dragonborn had joined her on the fallen log, Auriel's Bow resting in her lap.

Neither of them were very eager to start a conversation it seemed, seeing as the Dragonborn still had not said anything back at the comment Serana had made earlier.

The vampire looked at her companion from the corner of her eye, letting go of her chin for a moment to uncross her legs. She propped both of her arms on her knees, braced her chin on the back of her intertwined hands, and waited to see if the Dragonborn was going to speak.

At last, the woman beside her said: "Serana, are you..?" She then trailed off, a frown upon her lips, and she exhaled sharply before trying again. "Do you-"

The next second was a blur to Serana.

The two of them had been sitting in a small clearing right at the edge of the forest that led from the mouth of Darkfall Cave. The brush was tangled, and shadows masked the spaces below the canopy of tress that surrounded them.

She was sluggish, exhausted, and mentally clouded, so when an armored man suddenly exploded from the treeline with an ax lifted over his head, Serana could not react fast enough to avoid him.

The Dragonborn could, however, and she did. The woman surged forward, throwing Auriel's Bow out in front of herself. There was an echoing _clang_ of metal against metal, and Serana flinched when a spray of sparks created spots in her vision. She found herself looking up at the blade of an ax merely inches from her face.

Her dead heart jumping with newly found adrenaline, Serana scrambled backward, pulling herself over the log and shooting to her feet.

"It's the Dawnguard!" The Dragonborn hissed, using Auriel's Bow to hook the curve of their attacker's weapon and wrench it from his grip. Now unarmed, the man peered down dumbly at his empty hands before the woman grabbed him by the side of his helmet and slammed his head into the nearest tree.

The Dawnguard grunted as he met with the tree trunk, bouncing back in an almost comical manner before collapsing in a heap on the forest floor.

The vampire scowled when the rest of the ambush revealed themselves, her free hand clenching as she prepared an ice spike. _Great, just great._ This was really what she needed right now.

The Dragonborn moved to confront the other two Dawnguard members, throwing Auriel's Bow to the ground and pulling free her silver sword from her hip.

"Serana, please, don't kill anyone!" The other woman pleaded as she met the swing of the next Dawnguard's ax, the desperation in her voice alarming enough to make Serana hesitate. She had been on the verge of launching an ice spike right through the lungs of the Dawnguard that was charging her.

 _Fine, fine._ She wouldn't kill any of them, no matter how annoying these stupid mortals were.

Growling lowly in her throat, Serana dismissed her magic and moved her hand any from her own weapon.

The man rushing her was equipped with light armor, a single pauldron strapped to his shoulder gleaming in the daylight. Still, he was not as fast as her, and she dodged the ax blade that he swung at her.

Past the mortal, Serana caught a glimpse of the Dragonborn sweeping the legs out of from underneath her own opponent, and as she spun to avoid another swipe of the ax, she heard what sounded like the woman's boot coming in contact with the vampire hunter's gut.

Her attacker let out a war cry, gripping his weapon's handle with both hands as he swung again. Serana ducked, and wood splintered when the ax's blade buried itself into the tree she had backed into.

She was preparing to slip around the other side of the tree to put some space between herself and the vampire hunter, but she stopped, watching as the Dawnguard yanked on the stock of the weapon to no avail. The ax was stuck, and Serana had an opening.

Pulling herself upright, Serana reeled her fist back and sent it into the Dawnguard's jaw, snapping his head to the side. He made some strangled sound of complaint, but had not even made it to the ground before the Dragonborn pounced on him, wrenching his arms behind him and straddling his back.

"Lielle! What the hell are you doing?" The mortal man demanded.

Taking a couple of steps back, Serana scowled and crossed her arms.

This man.. his voice sounded familiar, and he seemed to know the Dragonborn, but only by the pseudo name that she had given the Dawnguard.

"What are _you_ doing, Celann?" The Dragonborn retorted tersely, holding firm through his struggling.

The mortal, Celann apparently, curled his hands into fists. "I'm.. _we're_ , trying to help you! This vampire turned you against your will, didn't she? You're under her spell, you don't know any better right now..."

 _Oh. So that's what this bullshit is about?_ Serana scoffed internally, her irritation expressed in the disgusted exhale that she let escape her. The high and mighty Dawnguard thought that she had seduced the Dragonborn, did they? Were they not more concerned with the threat of her own father trying to put out the fucking sun?

The Dragonborn's eyes darted upward to meet hers at the sound of it, and she shot Serana a look just as beseeching as the plea that she had made earlier.

Serana held back the acerbic reply that she had waiting for the mortal man, and remained silent.

The Dragonborn flashed her a brief, thankful smile, but it disappeared when she lowered her gaze back to the man beneath her. "No, Celann. She did not turn me against my will. She turned me to save my life."

Celann stopped writhing, his entire body rigid as he turned his helmet-covered head to look at her from the corner of his eye. "What? She saved you-" He cut himself off, his lip curling. "You're delusional, she has you enthralled, Lielle!"

 _You don't know a damn thing you ignorant, block-headed mortal!_ Serana hissed in her thoughts, her lips pressed tightly together to hold her tongue.

The Dragonborn took Celann's comment much more calmly, in fact, she appeared rather saddened at his words. All the more reason for Serana to be pissed off with the stupid mortal.

"Celann.." She sighed, her expression halfway blocked by her bangs, which had fallen over her eyes. Serana felt the urge to lean over and brush them away, so she could fully see the look on the woman's face. "I assure you I am in my right mind. Will you let me explain myself?"

Through the openings in his leather helmet, Serana watched as Celann's snarl dropped from his mouth, his brown eyes softening before closing completely.

"I want to trust you, Lielle.. but how can I? These _vampires_ ," At that word, the word that he spit like it was acid scorching the insides of his mouth, his eyes opened and immediately darted up to Serana. "They're monsters, savages, and liars." Celann declared bitterly while holding her gaze, his tone so accusing and full of hate.

Serana nearly rose to the bait, oh, she _really_ wanted to. Her own frustration was bubbling within her like an inferno, clouding her head in a film of red and tempting her to just verbally rip into the mortal man.

But she said nothing, not a single sound as the pause left by Celann's sharp words drug along. She only narrowed her eyes at him, her lips pursed in an effort to stay silent.

The Dragonborn had some.. fondness for this mortal. Serana did not want to upset her, not even if what Celann had just said also insulted the Dragonborn along with her.

"There are exceptions, are there not?" The Dragonborn finally spoke, her voice small and hesitant, and Serana broke eye contact with the vampire hunter to look to her instead. Vague disappointment could be seen in her expression. "You heard me ask Serana not to kill anyone earlier when you were attacking her, and she didn't. She could have."

 _Exactly._ Serana huffed to herself and looked back to Celann, to see his reaction.

The vampire hunter had stopped glaring at Serana, and appeared contemplative. Serana could almost imagine the gears turning inside his little brain.

The Dragonborn went on before he could reply. "Do you know of the prophecy that Serana told Isran and I?"

Celann nodded as much as he could with half of his face being pressed into the forest floor. "Yes.. about a month after you ran off with _her_ ," Serana broke into a wolfish grin at the inflection of envy expressed in that word, the satisfaction it brought helping cool off some of her anger.

That was right, mortal, the Dragonborn was _hers_ , not the Dawnguard's.

"...A small group of vampires attacked Fort Dawnguard. We took one of the survivors as a prisoner, and he confessed his master's plans." There was a hitch in Celann's speech then, from tart to surprisingly regretful. "I was sent to retrieve you, to return you to Fort Dawnguard, and to kill.. her."

Of course, he did not need to give a name with that. Both women knew, and before they could speak, Celann continued talking. "I-is... is it true? The vampires are trying to put out the sun?"

Serana let the Dragonborn nod in confirmation for him, as she uncrossed her arms and stalked off toward Auriel's Bow where it had been abandoned on the ground.

The vampire reached down to gather the legendary weapon in her hands, feeling Celann's eyes upon her the entire time.

"That is Auriel's Bow." The Dragonborn told him. "It is what Lord Harkon is after. If its arrows are tainted with Serana's blood, it can extinguish the sun.

Curling her fingers around the Bow's handle, Serana held it vertically and used her free hand to casually pick at the weapon's string.

There was the sound of clinking metal and the rustle of leather, Celann must have jolted in place. The mortal's alarm was evident in his following, strangled shout of: "That's!?"

"Yes.." Serana drawled in deadpan at him, pulling the Bow's thread back, and letting it loose with a reverberating _twang_. "Us _savage_ , _conniving_ vampires have a weapon that we can use put out the sun, and we haven't, have we?"

"I didn't mean.." The vampire hunter sputtered out, finally seeming to realize that his hateful words also applied to Dragonborn now. He exhaled heavily, slumping back into to the ground. "I.. I believe you, Lielle."

At his concession, the Dragonborn released him and stood. Celann slid his now freed arms beneath his chest to push himself onto his knees, and the woman offered her hand to him.

Serana, the smirk having dropped from her mouth long ago, sneered slightly at the display of the mortal accepting the gesture, and being helped to his feet by the Dragonborn.

"I'm sorry." Celann told the woman sincerely, and Serana's expression smoothed out.

At least he had the decency to apologize. If only he had the nerve to say another _sorry_ to Serana's face.

The Dragonborn shot him a fleeting, soft smile. "Celann.. will you return to Fort Dawnguard and try to reason with Isran? I just need him to understand that we have common goals. Harkon must be stopped."

The mortal man sighed, his eyes downcast. "I will _try_.. but Isran, you know how he is."

From what she could see of it through the openings in his helmet, Celann's expression twisted as he looked between his two unconscious fellow Dawnguard members. "You should go, before they come to." He suggested.

"Yes.." The Dragonborn agreed, her head tilting in Serana's direction. When their eyes met, Serana wordlessly nodded her own compliance, and the other woman strode toward the fallen log they had been resting on earlier to retrieve her bag.

Serana watched her sling its strap over her shoulder before turning toward the trees and beginning to walk with Auriel's Bow in hand. She had no idea which direction they should be going.. but they could work that out later. She just wanted to get away from the Dawnguard right now.

"Goodbye, Celann." She heard the Dragonborn call in farewell to the mortal man, and it was soon followed by hurried footsteps crunching over the fallen leaves and fir needles after her.

The two of them traveled in silence for some time, the sunlight threading through the branches of the trees dappling the forest in a borderline blinding golden glow that continued to torment Serana.

They were at least far enough from the vampire hunters that Serana could no longer detect their heartbeats when a hand closed around her forearm, bringing her to a stop.

The Dragonborn moved around her, her hold sliding up from her arm to the vampire's shoulder.

"Thank you, Serana." Was all she heard before she was pulled into a brief kiss.

Serana blinked several times when it ended, perplexed, but her mood had definitely been lifted. Her lips stretched into a pleased smile, and she chuckled faintly at the other woman. "For what? Not being a bitch to him?"

If being civil with these pestering vampire hunters earned her things such as that, Serana might be willing to compromise...

The Dragonborn laughed sharply and without humor, her touch falling away. She peered off into the maze of trees all around them, looking incredibly disheartened. Serana's delight drained from her.

"Celann is a good person. I know he is." The other woman insisted, lifting her fingers to her left earring to mess with it. She tapped at the piece of jewelry, making it swing back and forth. "He.. like much of the Dawnguard, are just too clouded by their hate to see clearly."

 _I hope.. I hope those mortals are willing to at least talk first before acting on that hate._ Some of it surely was justified, Serana knew.. but having to rely on these _vampire hunters_ for help was concerning to say the least.

Too exhausted both mentally and physically to keep up the conversation, Serana extended her unoccupied hand to the other woman.

Captured by the movement, the Dragonborn stopped fidgeting with her earring and peered down at the inviting hand for a moment. Next, the corner of her mouth quirked, and she placed her palm in Serana's.


	27. Kindred Judgement Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I have to convince Isran to help us. I fear he will be characteristically unreasonable with me, but we need the firepower of the Dawnguard. Without them, attacking Castle Volkihar by ourselves is suicidal._

The Dragonborn was bursting with nerves and an overwhelming tide of guilt as she tread through the waist-level golden grasses of Dayspring Canyon.

The walk was lovely, with moonlight shining down upon her instead of the sunlight that would have drained the energy from her every limb.

Her thoughts, more precisely the impending consequences of her actions, were less lovely.

_What have I done..?_

The woman ground her teeth together as she strode on, creating a terrible grinding within her skull that was quickly developing into a headache.

This..  _this_  was too much. This was possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life, and the Dragonborn figured that she had done  _a lot_  of moronic things in the twenty seven years that she had walked this land.

This was bigger than herself. She admitted this after having defeated the harbringer of the apocalypse himself, Alduin, or maybe it was just her childish sense of justice holding her back.

Either way, what she had done had been a decision made out of pure passion and not much thought.

She was a logical woman, she planned ahead, she strategized. It was difficult to do that when her own damn mind and body betrayed her. But.. whenever something involved Serana, she could hardly think clearly.

In frustration, the woman kicked at a rock that was in her path, sending it spiraling off the dirt trail and tumbling somewhere into the sea of grass.

The end of the canyon was fast approaching, but the long walk from the gates of Fort Dawnguard had done nothing to calm the sharp stabs of anxiety in her stomach.

She had done what she had done to protect she and Serana, but the long-term affects of it could potentially put them in even more danger.

 _Ugh._  The Dragonborn lifted one palm to her face to cradle her forehead, brushing away her bangs she did so.

Damn Isran, damn him and his unyielding ideals and stubbornness. Why couldn't he just have been reasonable? Why couldn't he have just.. understood?

Isran may have been rude, uncompromising, and dour, but the last thing the Dragonborn had ever wanted to do to him was hurt him.

* * *

_The Dragonborn was surprised at how willingly Isran had let her enter Fort Dawnguard._

_There were no threats, no swords or axes pointed at her back, not even the promise of the atrium that focused sunlight so intensely that it could have brought her to her knees._

_The leader of the Dawnguard had met her at the entrance of the fortress, and now, he climbed the staircase with her, a vampire, at his back._

_The worst she received were untrusting looks from unfamiliar Dawnguard members, and the occasional pitying ones from the people that she had met before.. before leaving with Serana._

_Isran led her to his study, its doorway right next to the railing that overlooked the chamber below. He entered, and she followed a little ways behind, the orange flames crackling in the fireplace on the far wall creating a silhouette around the Redguard man._

_Isran stopped at the foot of the fireplace, his broad shoulders flexing stiffly as he crossed his arms over his chest. The Dragonborn could already feel the grim frown on his face before he even turned around to face her._

_She figured she would take the initiative to break the frigid air around them, but had only managed to part her lips halfway before Isran's growling voice filled the room._

_"You're here for a reason, aren't you, girl? I suspect it's too much to hope that you've decided to abandon that vampire and return to us, so what do you want?"_

_The Dragonborn recoiled slightly, her confidence flickering and her mouth closing. She had been expecting a lot more.. belittling on his part. He wanted her to be straightforward, then? She could do that._

_She squared herself, trying to appear more self-assured. "Harkon. I want to defeat him, and I need the Dawnguard to do that."_

_Isran's dark eyes narrowed at her, creases forming on his forehead. "I recall quite clearly your claim of not_ needing _the Dawnguard. Sound familiar, girl?"_

_The Dragonborn forced down the indignant lump forming in her throat. It was time to swallow her pride. The safety of Skyrim was leagues above her own ego and hubris._

_"Isran," She started, her voice low and wavering._ _"I was wrong." Agh, did that sting. She tried to not wince too obviously when the words left her mouth. "I need the Dawnguard's help to defeat Lord Harkon. I cannot do it on my own."_

_Isran considered her concession, the severity of his expression softening as he did. The Dragonborn could see his options clicking into place when the look in his eyes sharpened._

_"You will have the Dawnguard's support." He told her._

_The Dragonborn was, once again, shocked. No way it was going to be this easy, there had to be some catch._

_"If-" There it was. The Dragonborn flooded with exasperation. "-If you cure yourself of this.." His gaze lowered from her face down to the rest of her body, and back up. "-curse, and slay that_ lover _of yours along with her kin."_

 _She tensed up first on the word_ slay _, but_ lover _was what really drove the stake in. The Dragonborn felt her spine go rigid, and she fought with her instinctive reaction to lash out at him by biting her own tongue hard enough to sting._

No.  _Was the immediate response that her mind provided her with, and the Dragonborn agreed completely. She did not speak it aloud, though, both of her hands curling into fists by her sides due to the effort._

_Isran was telling her to kill Serana._

_No. No, that was out of the question._

_Perhaps she did not need the Dawnguard after all. She had the power of the Ancient Nords_ and _Dragons at her finger tips, not to mention the inhuman abilities of a vampire. She could.. probably.. take on an entire castle full of almost equally powerful enemies. Probably._

_There was also the matter of taking down Harkon..._

_Isran, mostly likely fed up with her speechlessness, shattered her thought process._

_"That's what this is, right, girl?" The Redguard sneered at her, his voice dripping with malice. "That vampire seduced you, and now you're one of them."_

_The Dragonborn arched a brow at him, willing to take the harsh words, until he added: "Pathetic." Isran then spit at the stone floor by her feet, and her anger flared._

_How dare he speak to her like that? He may have been older, but that did not make him better than her, that did not make him any more deserving of respect than she was._

_Isran did_ not _have the moral high ground here just because he was a mortal and she had let her humanity go. The Dragonborn decided that she was not going to accept this treatment, or any threats aimed at Serana from him._

_"Well, have you decided?" Isran grunted, unfolding his arms and lowering them to his sides._

_All the Dragonborn could really recall in that moment was an incredible sense of power. She was higher on the food chain than this feeble mortal man; she could end his miserable life with ease, and that fact was exhilarating. It must have been what a Saber Cat or Wolf felt like when they had finally cornered their prey and were preparing to pounce, she figured._

_She had her rabbit right where she wanted him, and she was ready to sink her teeth in._

_Isran barely had time to react before she lunged forward, one her hands closing around his throat, and the other clapping over his mouth to muffle his responding shout of alarm._

_She must have lifted him completely off his feet, because through the red haze over her vision before she went for his neck, she saw the Redguard up against the grimy brick wall in front of her._

_She had never done this to a person before. Usually it was bottles of human blood that Serana presented to her to sate her thirst, and somewhere deep inside herself, that last speck of humanity within her, cried out in outrage at her actions._

_This was wrong, she knew that, but it was also so_  thrilling _._

_The Dragonborn sank her fangs into the mortal man's neck, and she bit down. Isran thrashed against her in futility, but he went slack as soon as the coppery taste of his blood began filling her mouth._

_She then stepped back, pulling her hand away from his mouth and swiping her tongue over her top and bottom lip to gather whatever blood that had escaped._

_Isran, proud, steadfast, grumpy Isran, blinked at her languidly and peered at her with hazy eyes. It felt like he was looking straight through her._

_"Mistress." His voice was monotone, his expression empty. "What will you have me do?"_

* * *

An hour. She thinks it must have been at least an hour since the Dragonborn had left.

It felt like eons, especially since Serana had nothing to do but wait and worry.

The vampire sat upon a moss-covered boulder with her legs crossed, having picked the spot due to the willow tree that loomed over it. It wasn't much use now that the sun had sunk below the horizon, but she did not see any reason to move.

She was too busy fretting over the Dragonborn to think of much else, nevermind relocating herself.

The entrance to Dayspring Canyon was straight ahead, across the cobblestone road from her, and all Serana had been doing this entire time was bore a hole into the shadowed tunnel.

It would have been incredibly stupid to follow the Dragonborn right into the middle of a cult of armed vampire hunters, but her skin was just itching with the thought that her partner was in there alone. Serana should have been by her side, ready to defend her, ready to fight with her.

She despised this waiting, and each minute that crawled along only added to the weight growing in her chest.

What if this was a trap? What if they had turned on her and captured her, or even worse, what if they had killed her?

 _No, stop that._  The vampire shook her head slowly, drawing in a long, relaxing inhale.

She was being paranoid. The Dragonborn would not be defeated so easily, and if that Celann fellow was anything to go by, the Dawnguard were too fond of the woman to just kill her.

But that other man.. Isran, he was their biggest obstacle. That mortal loathed their kind; how in Oblivion was the Dragonborn going to be able to convince him to put aside his prejudices and help them? There just.. didn't seem to be any good outcome to this meeting in her mind.

For first time since she had sat down, Serana lowered her gaze from the mouth of the canyon. She untangled the knot of fingers that she had her hands in, and began picking restlessly at her nails.

They were surprisingly long and elegant, despite the rather violent things that she tended to use her hands for.

That would soon be undone, because if the Dragonborn did not return soon, she was probably going to pick them off down to stubs.

Serana was in the process of bringing one of her thumbnails to her mouth to be chewed to pieces when she caught movement in front of her.

The vampire bolted upright, slipping off of her perch when the figure emerging from the canyon on the other side of the road was close enough to be recognized.

The Dragonborn had returned in one piece, thank the Gods.

"Hey!" She called breathlessly, rushing forward and making it to the other woman in only three strides. Serana placed her hands on each of the Dragonborn's shoulders, and studied her expression now that they stood face-to-face.

She looked.. disturbed.

"Are you okay?" Her eyes traveled lower, all the way down to the other woman's feet and back up. She had some thorns stuck onto her and dead grass in her hair, but otherwise was completely unharmed. "They didn't hurt you, did they?" Serana asked anyways.

The Dragonborn attempted to give her a smile, and failed miserably. "I'm fine, Serana," She paused and gave up the effort, the sides of her mouth pulled into a frown. "Isran agreed to help us."

That was good news, but she sounded far from pleased about it.

Serana raised a brow. "He did? It can't.. it can't have been _that_  easy."

The Dragonborn rocked forward a little on her feet, and she looked away off the side. "It wasn't," She sighed dully, "He only agreed to help us.. if... if I cured my vampirism."

 _What?_  Too shaken by the Dragonborn's words, Serana let a pause stretch between them while she tried to recollect her wits. She blinked a couple of times, hard.

"What?" She asked aloud this time, her touch falling away.

The Dragonborn reached for one of her dangling hands, and grasped it between her two palms. To Serana, it felt like the woman were clinging to her in an effort to ground herself. She was trembling like a leaf.

"I.. enthralled him. He is under my spell, and he commands the Dawnguard... so they are ours to control now."

 _What?_  Serana was speechless, her lips parted, but she couldn't find any other words than  _what?_  to say.

The Dragonborn's hold tightened around her hand, a hint of panic seeping into her voice when she spoke again.

"I had to do it. He told me that the only way he would help was if I killed you." She was trying so desperately to justify her own actions, and it was heartbreaking to Serana. She had absolutely nothing to feel guilty over.

This outcome was unexpected to say the least. Serana found it to be a pleasant surprise more than anything, but the Dragonborn did not think like her. The woman had a heart of gold, and what she had done was obviously tearing her apart. Isran had been her ally, and this probably felt like she had just plunged a dagger into his back.

Also.. her heart gave a little flutter at the realization of what this woman would do for her.

"Hey," Serana uttered softly, and the Dragonborn reeled back a little. "You did what you had to." She raised her free hand to drape it over the other woman's, who continued to clutch her left hand firmly.

Her words had the calming effect that she had been hoping for, some of the tension falling from the Dragonborn's shoulders and her expression softening.

"This means.. that we're ready to storm Castle Volkihar, right?" Serana went on, offering a consoling smile.

She could see the determination igniting inside the other woman's eyes, her brows drawing together and the corners of her mouth curling upward.

Right, they were, weren't they? They could do this. They could defeat Harkon, together.

"Yes," The Dragonborn spoke at last, intertwining their fingers. "It seems our moment of fate is nearly upon us."

Serana squinted at her, before throwing her head back in a short bout of soft laughter. "Encouraging words. Must you be so morbid and cryptic?"

The other woman flashed her teeth at her in a fleeting grin, giving Serana's hand a little squeeze. "I can't be stoic all the time. I have to mix it up every now and then."

Serana exhaled with amusement through her nose, tilting her head to face down the length of the cobblestone road that stretched out before them. Their next stop was Riften, but surely they didn't have to leave  _right_  now?

She then tilted her head back, towards the sky. It was velvety black, sprinkled by stars and painted by green and red auroras. It was lovely.

An unspoken agreement must have passed between them then, because the next moment Serana felt herself being gently tugged past the treeline. She and the Dragonborn emerged, hand-in-hand, into a clearing with a quaint pond in its center. Lily pads rested on the water's surface, which gleamed brightly with moonlight.

She was led to its bank, where the Dragonborn released her hand and lowered herself into the pillowy grass. She sat with her legs crossed, palms resting over her knees.

Serana soon joined her after she had finished appreciating the scenery, close enough that their arms brushed once she had settled herself.

"Serana," The woman beside her began in a grim tone, "Are you ready for this? To kill Harkon?" Serana did not hear the jingling of her earrings, and she felt no eyes seeking out her own, so she continued to peer into the reflective surface of the pond as she contemplated.

They had to kill Harkon. It had been the obvious solution to this problem for what.. months now? Her father had to die to ensure the safety of Skyrim.

Of course, Serana's stomach did give a tiny little twist at the notion. Harkon  _had_  been her father, and she  _had_  loved him greatly. But that was in the past, the very distant past. Whoever this man was who called himself Lord Harkon, he was not the man she had once known.

The vampire sighed, letting her weight fall into the Dragonborn's side as she did so. "Harkon.. he stopped being a real father to me a long time ago. I'm ready."

This time, she did hear the rattle of the other woman's earrings, and Serana turned toward her. They were face to face, and Serana could see the stress etching lines into the Dragonborn's skin with her troubled expression so close.

Ah, she really was worried about this, about how this would effect Serana. It made warmth swell within her, but a tide of anger overpowered it.

She was prepared to kill Harkon. He had  _hurt_  the Dragonborn and so many others. He'd had this coming for ages.

This damn woman was just far too forgiving.

"He's.. still your father..." Far,  _far_  too forgiving. Serana kept a cynical chuckle to herself. "I'll kill him, so you don't have to."

The words stabbed her right in the dead heart, but in a pleasant way. She was just aching with how much she loved this woman.

She expressed her breathlessness with a pithy chuckle, raising her hand to cup the Dragonborn's left cheek. "I appreciate that," The pad of her thumb brushed along the woman's skin, over that darling little mole that was underneath her eye. "But we're in this together."

Serana hovered even closer, their noses nearly touching and their mouths just a couple tantalizing inches apart. "You know I'd follow you to Oblivion and back."*

The air was suddenly so charged around the two of them. It was palpable, restless, and the Dragonborn could not make sense of it. All that she could comprehend was the need to have Serana's lips on her own.

She had already made one impulsive decision today, what harm would be one more?

Huffing impatiently, the Dragonborn closed the distance between them herself, a hunger unlike anything that their kisses had possessed before making itself known once their lips made contact.

She reached for Serana, draping her arms over the back of the other woman's neck, acutely aware of the touches that were placed upon her as well.

They had never shared such a passionate kiss, not even back in the Forgotten Vale, on that Gods-forsaken frozen lake. This setting was much more romantic, and that was not anxiety weighing in her stomach, it was.. desire, hot and vociferous desire snaking its way down to the space between her thighs.

Had she ever felt genuine desire for another person? Had she ever  _wanted_  someone as much as she wanted Serana?

 _Certainly not_ , she thought, when a shiver traveled up her spine as Serana slid one of the hands upon her waist further downward.

Eventually, they both had to break apart for air, and Serana took in a sharp breath that she blew out against the Dragonborn's ear, evoking another shudder from her. Stars were already flashing underneath her eyelids when Serana pulled her even nearer, the touch of her lips ghosting down from the side of her jaw to her neck.

Instinctively she tilted her head to allow more access to her neck, and a faint gasp escaped her when Serana's teeth grazed her. She was fully anticipating what she expected next, a feeling that she only experienced a time before while slowly fading into unconsciousness and laying in a pool of her own blood.

It never came, Serana had hesitated, her cold breath blowing across the Dragonborn's skin.

Was something wrong? She thought that things had been going rather well..

"Do you want this?" Serana said softly right at her ear, her alluring voice thick with concern.

 _Oh._  Serana was asking for permission. Permission was something that neither of them had been offered, once, wasn't it? _Gods._  She nodded against the other woman.

"Yes, I do." The Dragonborn answered steadily.

Now given her consent, Serana descended upon her like a starving wolf, the twin pin-pricks of her fangs an electrifying feeling that created shivers through her very bones. The small amount of pain it brought was pleasurable in a way, even more so when she heard the appreciative purr that was coming from the back of Serana's throat.

Did her blood really taste so divine, to illicit a sound like  _that_  from Serana? She was going to end up making her jealous if she carried on like that.

Serana pulled away, the tip of her nose trailing against the Dragonborn as she drug her tongue over the marks that she had just made.

The action evoked a sound from the Dragonborn that she never thought she'd make, her every sense and thought melting into pure bliss.

When Serana moved her hands to grasp her shoulders and push her flat onto her back, the Dragonborn let her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***:O She said it!**   
>  **I'm asexual myself, so I don't think sex scenes between the characters I'm writing are necessary, but I've already written up a lot of sexual tension between these two and I can't not do anything with that. That's just irresponsible.**


	28. Author’s Note

First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, and left kudos on this work. I’ve had a great time writing it and receiving all your feedback, but Most likely I won’t be continuing this story. I’ve moved on to other works, like my Overwatch one, and actually, I’ve started writing a book that I want to get published. So this is the end of To Oblivion and Back, for now at least. I do have the next chapter started, I just haven’t had the time or motivation to finish it. So I fell short just one chapter... oh well! It’s been fun at least, and I really do appreciate those of you who followed this story.

Take care, everyone!

-Mecha_Maid


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